


O Brother, Where Art Thou?

by lil_slug



Series: A Post-War Odyssey [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Developing Relationship, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Life on the Road, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-War America, Protective Mike Wheeler, Slow Burn, scavenger hunt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 57,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_slug/pseuds/lil_slug
Summary: November, 1948 - After a fateful night that puts an end to his six months on the streets of Indianapolis, Will Byers, together with the only two friends he has, sets out to find his long lost brother. They know the road ahead is going to be riddled with danger, hunger and every other hardship imaginable. But will it also lead them to a place they can call home?Sequel to 'It gets cold out here.'.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! I didn't think I'd actually do this right now. But until I can find inspiration to continue 'It's the doubt', I'm gonna write this instead. If I haven't made this clear enough before I'm never (!!!) going to abandon a fic. Getting a bit of relief from writing on the same story all the time might fuel my inspiration, though.
> 
> Anyways, just a prologue so far. Tags might be updated, but I think I got all the important characters.

**May 29th, 1948**

 

It‘s not a smooth engine. Someone who has worked on cars long enough notices these things. Maybe it‘s the spark plugs. The fuel system. From time to time the old thing gives a loud _Bang!,_ as it misfires like a gunshot in the Great Plains in the dead of night, but to its credit, it never gives in. Not for the almost eight hours the drive takes. The headlights cast their dim glow at the highway in front of him. It‘s not nearly enough light to safely travel at the speed he is going right now, but he has to take that risk.

 

It‘s making up for lost time. Nothing is as important as getting out of state tonight, and up until now he has relied only on unpaved backroads, because he knows the police is going to check the highway first. Without a map, all he can hope for is that he is going the right way. And that he can get out before the crack of dawn.

 

He was half expecting a road block, a whole bunch of police cars maybe a mile from the border to Wyoming. He might have just tried to bust through it. But there is nothing. The road is deserted as it should be at 5 in the morning, perfectly straight, dark, silent, and empty. Perhaps they expected him to go south. To Kansas. Which would have been logical, also stupidly predictable. He smirks sadly. And then, it‘s there.

 

 _Welcome to Wyoming!_ on a large, green sign, riddled with bullet holes. Yes, people around this boring part of the country sure enjoy target practice from a moving car. Something of a traditional regional sport. Aside from that, the sign is approaching awfully fast. He only then realizes, he is all but blazing down the highway

 

Jonathan Byers slams the clutch and brake pedal on the old Ford pickup. It comes to a screeching halt mere feet away from the border. These past few hours were a good opportunity to think, and one of the conclusions he has come to is, he absolutely shouldn‘t transport a stolen car across a state border. So far, they might not even send the feds after him. Jonathan might get himself out of his current predicament with a simple step into Wyoming. But if the car remains missing, well, that would be a different story.

 

Instead, he reverses the sputtering vehicle to a halt in the grass by the side of the road. Then, when the engine is off and all there is to hear is the deafening silence of a Nebraska corn field at night, he lets out a long, exasperated sigh. Jonathan desperately wants more time.

 

He wants a plan. Someone to tell him what he is supposed to do, how he is supposed to proceed from here. _An adult,_ he thinks. Because that‘s one of the few things he can‘t quite be. But there are just two kinds of people in this world; Those who want to put him in jail, or possibly kill him. And those who don‘t know him.

 

So, onward it is, into an uncertain future. He hastily gathers the only bag of meager belongings he possesses from the passenger seat, hurries out of the truck, and scans the road behind him. No headlights, no police sirens, no nothing. He has no idea how communication and cooperation between different counties works, and actually doubts that the Sheriff could have followed him that far, but it‘s still a relief to see he got away.

 

Jonathan looks at his booted feet. It‘s just May, but a hot one, and the grass is already dry. In front of his inner eye, images flash up painfully. Dancing flames, that eerily paint the few clouds of the night sky red and orange. _Yeah,_ he thinks, _that would be goddamn fitting, wouldn‘t it?_ To make sure it doesn‘t set the fields around him on fire, he rips out the dry grass from underneath the hot exhaust.

 

The headlights remain on. While they don‘t do a good job at lighting the road Jonathan is about to walk down, they will at least drain the battery. The starter handle is missing anyways, and Jonathan makes sure to take the ignition key, so the truck will have to be towed back to its owner. He just _borrowed_ it, as far as he is concerned, as no man deserves to have his car stolen. Not even Neil Hargrove.

 

The long drive across bumpy backroads has left Jonathan exhausted, so once he has crossed the border, he allows himself a more humane pace. No use in killing himself by walking. The only urgent matter he now faces is his growling stomach.

 

 _But that‘s not true!_ Jonathan mentally scolds himself. It‘s _Will_. Will, his little brother. He is the only _really_ urgent matter, and has been for two years. Two long, lonely years since their ma died. Since their pa chased Jonathan away, threatening to shoot him if he dare come back. Threatening to shoot Will. Two years since he has seen his brother. Jonathan was fourteen back then, and by now he doesn‘t even know if Will would recognize him anymore. Or if he would recognize Will. Kids his age change so fast.

 

And still, he has to get his brother out of there. He made a promise. A single tear slides down his cheek before he sees it. A sign by the side of the road that proudly proclaims a town called _Torrington_ is near. And Jonathan just loses it. The last twenty-four hours catch up to him with such unrelenting power, that his body won‘t answer to his brain‘s commands anymore.

 

„Shit!“ he screams into the pitch black fields that surround him. „Shit! Shit! Shit!“ The metal sign now has to serve as his punching bag. It‘s the goddamn injustice of everything that has Jonathan close to losing his mind.

 

He had it all sorted out! Even after the auto shop in Indianapolis went bankrupt. He found a job that would have allowed him to offer Will a new home, maybe next year. A place to sleep. More food than he could wish for. But it all had to go to shit, didn‘t it? All because of the green-eyed monster. Jonathan punches a few deep dents into the sign in his rage, knuckles cracking open bloody at the sheer force he puts into his attack. Hit after hit, the pain grows into an exploding force of frustration and utter hatred.

 

Everything could have worked out fine. But Jonathan Byers is a wanted man now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, right. Like Will is just gonna walk into Nebraska, meet Jonathan, and then they live happily ever after. Come on, I can't make it THAT easy.


	2. Lie Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going with more short chapters for this one. Maybe that way I can update more frequently. I don't feel like putting out a single 5-7k word chapter a week.

„ _Jonathan... Will... you have to promise...“_

 

„ _Anything. Ma, please, I-“_

 

„ _Listen! Watch out for each other! Don‘t let him... don‘t... don‘t let...“_

 

* * *

 

**November 12th, 1948**

 

_While riding on a train goin' west_  
_I fell asleep for to take my rest_  
_I dreamed a dream that made me sad_  
_Concerning myself and the first few friends I had_

 

Will jolts upwards. A shriek, long and painful to the ear, escapes his dry throat. It‘s loud, even compared to the relentless rattling of the train, or the unyielding wind that is flowing through the wide cracks in this dingy old freight car.

 

The noise immediately sends the other two people that are with him into a sudden turmoil. People with less experience, or less time spent out on the streets than Mike and Hopper, would recognize it as what it is at once. The sound of a boy who wakes after a particularly dreadful nightmare. But to them, it could be anything; A nightly attacker. Fire. The police.

 

This inherent watchfulness always precedes the realization that they are, in fact, safe. Safe, unless someone manages to jump on to a moving freight train headed for Nebraska in the middle of the night. That is extremely unlikely, so Mike, after shouting out with fear, quickly relaxes, and Hopper lowers his revolver. The young policeman‘s revolver. Mike probably hates that thing, but Hopper was right to keep it.

 

Will knows where he is. And he knows he is cold, lying there on a bed made out of bags of corn, but without a comforting blanket to shield his trembling body from the November air. His bedding is scratchy, bumpy and uncomfortable. Still, it‘s better than the two layers of cardboard he slept on for half a year.

 

„Will!“ Mike sighs. „Crap, I‘m sorry!“

 

„Sorry...?“ Will‘s head is still spinning slightly from waking up with a start. „What-?“ He then sees it. Mike huddled up in the fuzzy looking blanket the two of them shared when they fell asleep. „Dragged it off you, I guess.“ the other boy muses. „Did you have a nightmare?“

 

First, Will looks over at Hopper, who still seems on alert. The tall, gruff man with the dirty beard makes for an imposing sight, even when he is sitting slumped against the wooden wall of the freight car. „Nightmare?“ he repeats. „Jesus Christ... sounded more like-“ Hopper cuts himself off. „So I can go to sleep again?“

 

„Yeah.“ Will says, and as if hit with a hammer, the man‘s eyes fall shut again. That‘s just what he does. Go to sleep whenever he wants to, or whenever he feels safe enough to do so.

 

„Will, c‘mere.“ Mike inches closer to him, and they meet in the middle. Will feels the blanket being draped around him, finally giving him the release from the crackling cold that he needed. „You okay?“

 

„I‘m good.“ he answers truthfully. In secret, Will wonders how he could stand this for so long. Two and a half years since his mother died, since he had to say goodbye to Jonathan. So long without anyone to hold on to. And now Mike is offering him just that, and that makes him feel warm both on the out and on the inside. „It‘s weird.“ Will sighs. „That I dream about it now, I mean.“

 

They are so close to each other, with their noses almost touching, the confusion on Mike‘s face is visible. „About what happened? You shouldn‘t. It‘s not your fault. I-“

 

„No, not that. It‘s my ma. About when she died.“ He remembers her last words so clearly, wracked by bloody, violent coughs, but up until now, he has never dreamed about it. Perhaps because his mind liked to show him these images on repeat, like a stuck gramophone. She coughs. She makes them promise. She coughs. She doesn‘t cough anymore.

 

„Wanna tell me?“ Mike says quietly, just loud enough to be audible over the noises the train assaults their eardrums with. „You... never talked about it.“

 

That is true. Aside from the day Mike saved his life all those months ago, Will never mentioned his mother to either him or Hopper. Up until now he just thought they know enough. Why bother them with the details when it hurts too much to recall them? „She was sick.“ Will carefully says. „Tuberculosis. Our house was old. Cold in the winter, even with the fire going. Damp.“

 

„I...“ Nothing more comes from Mike, but he wiggles even closer to Will, wrapping himself around him. His chin resting on Will‘s head, he breathes in and out steadily.

 

„Mike?“ Will mumbles against his friend‘s shirt. „It‘s okay.“

 

„Okay... okay... Think you can go to sleep again?“

 

Probing his own body by wiggling fingers, curling toes, stretching a bit, Will realizes he is actually well rested. It‘s still dark outside, and since Hopper is the only one with a pocket watch, there is no way of telling what time it is. They should arrive at their destination in Nebraska in the early morning hours. Perhaps before sunrise. „I‘m awake.“ he sighs. „And I guess we better stay awake. Mustn‘t miss our stop.“

 

„Hopper would take care of that.“ Mike retorts. „Sometimes I think he can wake himself up whenever he wants, like he sleeps with one eye open. That‘s crazy army skills. But I don‘t think I can sleep either.“ He turns silent then. Will believes to know why. It‘s just been a little over twenty-four hours. Mike has changed into his second shirt, which is now his only shirt, given the blood-soaked state of the one he was wearing yesterday. A single night of restless sleep and a change of shirts doesn‘t fix what happened, though.

 

„Are you thinking about it?“ Will carefully asks. As if he doesn‘t know the answer.

 

„Didn‘t dream about it.“ Mike makes a wet snorting noise. „That‘s gonna take a few days.“ Without being able to see his friend‘s face, Will feels him doing something with his hand. Tracing a path down his own face. The bruise where Hopper‘s hand struck Mike probably looks like hell now. „Hopper was right, I guess.“

 

„He apologized.“ Will points out. „Said he shouldn't have done it, remember? And he said you did the right thing.“

 

„Yeah, but... I mean, that guy really was young. And probably married. With kids.“ Mike curls up only slightly. Will won‘t let him pull his knees up again, staying as close as he can.

 

„And he was a police officer. Where‘d we be if they had arrested Hopper. Not on the way to find my brother.“ With a small groan Will realizes how selfish that sounded.

 

But Mike might just be smiling, the way he talks now. Will can‘t really know the way he is wrapped around his friend for warmth and comfort. „That‘s what we‘re gonna do. But until then, I‘m still in charge. Right, Byers?“

 

Will hums in confirmation, not without a hint of sarcasm. Mike behaves differently now. He says this, but doesn‘t exactly mean it. It almost sounds like a slight loss of confidence and control over himself. „Hopper is in charge of you, you‘re in charge of me... What do I get?“ Will quips.

 

„Hm... I guess we could find you a pet squirrel to shove around. Hey, you hungry?“

 

„Going from _squirrel_ to _hungry_? I'm not _that_ desperate yet. Uh... no. Not hungry. You?“

 

„We only got old bread anyways.“

 

Will scoffs. „Not what I was asking.“

 

„Fine. No, I‘m not hungry either.“ Mike gives a gentle squeeze to Will‘s body. „I kinda just wanna lie down. We‘re gonna get something to eat once we‘re in Lincoln. Something real good.“ 

 

Oh yes, that‘s what they‘re going to do. Because they‘re well off now. The money Mike stuffed into his pockets back at the store they broke into amounts to almost 50 Dollars. Will‘s eyes nearly popped when they counted it yesterday. It‘s a fortune, there is no better way to put it. At least, for three filthy homeless people with a certain fondness for canned food and tobacco, it is. Actually, it‘s more than Will‘s pa brought home from the factory in an entire month. So, perhaps it‘s even enough to get them to Jonathan.

The two of them remain lying, being rocked by the old train tracks and the shabby freight car. Will fully relaxes. Mike doesn't, and Will is sure, it's not the unrelenting cold that makes his friend stiff as a board.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this was really just to have some reflection on what happened at the end of 'It gets cold out here.' Because this is literally set 24 hours later, and we can't expect them to be fine after Mike killed that policeman.
> 
> PS: Lyrics in the beginning taken from 'Bob Dylan's Dream'. Super fitting for some reason.


	3. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. Updating took two days longer than I wanted. Not trying to make excuses here, but in my defense, I broke my leg and spent a night at the hospital with painkillers and everything. But I'm alive. I'm comfortable, not in pain, and I'm gonna be off work for a few days. Yay.

„Okay. Lincoln, Nebraska. This is it.“

 

„I don‘t see anything.“ Will spies out of the now open door. The train is still moving, a lot slower than just minutes ago, but there really is nothing in sight except for maybe a few houses in brown, wide open fields. Not a single tree, no real landscape with depths and heights. This is the middle of nowhere.

 

„Outskirts.“ Hopper shrugs. „But from what I‘ve heard, it doesn‘t get any better. Never been here before.“

 

Next to Will, Mike shudders a bit. „I don‘t like this. There‘s nowhere to hide here.“

 

That is true, and Will feels is too. By now, he is used to large buildings. Alleys, warehouses, patches of trees and parks. He knows Indianapolis well enough to survive there. Here, he is a stranger in a strange place, with nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep. „We‘re gonna get out of here as fast as we can, right?“ he muses.

 

The sun has just begun rising at the perfectly flat horizon. Most of the sky is dark blue, but the few bright spots are obstructed with gray November clouds. It‘s cold here, with a vicious wind nagging at Will. He decides to pull on some gloves, despite them being too large for his hands. They didn‘t have time to look for correct sizes back at the store.

  
„Good idea.“ Mike sighs, putting on his own gloves. „Here.“ He picks up Will‘s new hat, roughly places it on his head, and then smiles weakly. Without a mirror anywhere near, Will understands, he probably looks just like a smaller version of Mike with it. „Newsboy. I‘m gonna show you how to sew in pockets later.“ his friend promises, smiling.

 

„So...“ Will begins. He bites his lip for a second. „Are we gonna-“ He was just about to ask if they are going to stay on the train until it stops, when the freight car passes a tall, rusty chain-link fence, indicating that they have reached the station. With every disadvantage that comes with it. There will be personnel. People who could spot them.

 

„God dammit.“ Hopper grunts. „Well, we‘ve waited too long. Now we‘re gonna have to be sneaky. You kids think you can jump off? If we wait for this thing to stop, we‘re gonna end up caught.“

 

By now, the train can‘t be moving faster than fifteen miles an hour. Well, it might turn out painful. But not lethal, Will reckons. He nods, just as Mike.

 

„Good. You got all your bags?“

 

Both boys are basically packed like mules, one bag strapped to their stomachs, one on their backs, each. „Got everything.“ Will confirms.

 

„Then you‘re first. And do it quick, I don‘t think this ride is gonna last a lot longer.“

 

That has Will gulping. He knows it‘s time to jump. He knows it‘s time to say goodbye to the happy spider population in this freight car that he spent close to thirty hours in. Just one step out of the sliding door. He can already see himself rolling on the gravel next to the train tracks, limbs twisted in disgusting, unnatural angles.

 

Then, he feels Mike‘s gloved hand in his. „Together?“

 

„O-okay.“ Will closes his eyes. He allows Mike to just pull him into the airstream outside. His stomach turns, jumps and shakes as he goes from moving forwards to moving down. The second he hits the ground, Will‘s eyes snap open again. Just in time for him to find himself rolling. On top of Mike, underneath Mike, on top of him again, and again, and again, slower, slower, until it eventually stops.

 

With a nauseously spinning vision, both shoulders screaming in pain, and a somewhat scrambled brain, Will groans. „Mike! You okay?“

 

„I think I‘m gonna puke.“ comes the pained response from Mike, who is lying down on his stomach. „I‘m not hurt, I guess.“ Just as for Will, the bags filled with blankets, clothes and sleeping bags must have taken most of the abuse from the hard ground. Hopper has some padding too, but he is way taller and broader than Mike and Will. So, naturally, his face is twisted in pain when he approaches them.

 

„This is pretty much the only bad part of train hopping.“ he grumbles. „Gets you where you wanna go, but you either end up beat up, or caught. I think no one‘s seen us, though. Get up!“

 

Will is the first to stand up, Mike takes a bit longer. „You sure you‘re okay?“

 

„Hm, yeah.“ Mike replies, rolling his shoulders. „Hop‘s right. We gotta get going.“

  
And that they do. Of course, they are on the lookout for anyone who could be looking for train hoppers. Or really anyone who works here and could spot them. But the station is vast, with the train stopping somewhere in the distance. They made it out soon enough, as it seems, so they quietly make their way across train track after train track, across gravel that scrunches under their shoes. Until they reach a predicament.

 

„Yeah, well, I knew we‘d have to deal with this.“ Hopper says, eyeing the chain-link fence that surrounds the entire area. The top is lined with barbed wire.

 

„Can‘t we just walk around it?“ Will contemplates. „I mean, there must be an opening for the tracks.“

 

„Doesn‘t work that way. Look.“ The man points in the direction from where the trains arrive. In the faint light of the morning sun, Will can only see a now closed gate.

 

„Crap.“

 

„Yeah. Crap.“ Mike agrees. „So we gotta get over this thing?“

 

„Done it before.“ Hopper sighs heavily. „We‘re gonna use a blanket to cover that barbed wire. Quick, I wanna get out of here before the sun‘s up. They‘re gonna spot us if we wait too long.“ Since he is arguably the tallest of the three, Hopper throws their oldest, most worn out blanket right across the rusted barbed wire. He makes it at the third attempt. With the fence being eight or nine feet tall, that‘s no wonder. „Byers, you go first.“

 

And this time, there‘s no holding hands with Mike. Will has to do this on his own. The wire mesh hurts his fingers when he holds on to it, crawling up like a spider in the freight car. But Will is strong. Stronger than he thought, after six months of running around Indianapolis. He makes it to the top no problem, and getting over the blanket with the barbed wire underneath isn‘t too hard either.

 

Climbing down on the other side proves to be more difficult, as his strength begins to leave him by the time he is halfway down. But halfway down is far enough to let go, and land on the frozen ground without hurting himself.

 

Mike is next, and just as for Will, getting up on top of the fence doesn‘t seem to hard on him. No wonder; he is well rested after a long train ride with nothing to do but sit, sleep, and some talking. His way down turns out somewhat quicker, though. The second Mike has made it over the blanket-covered barbed wire, he loses his footing. Gravity does the rest. It results in a nine-feet fall, a heavy _Thump!_ and a faint groan from Mike.

 

„Shit! You okay?“ Will asks, not for the first time today. Mike hisses with pain when Will touches his shoulders.

 

„I‘m good. I‘m good.“ he mutters. „Really. Look.“ Breathing heavily, he lifts himself up, casually shoves his hands down his pockets, and grins his yellow grin, complete with plaque and a missing tooth.

 

„You sure, Wheeler?“ Hopper asks from the other side of the fence. „Nothing broken?“

 

As if to prove a point, Mike starts jumping up and down a bit. „I‘m okay. Get over here, old man.“

 

* * *

 

Lincoln is more deserving of the term _‚city‘_ than Will originally thought. Hadn‘t he spent six months getting the precise names and locations of all the important landmarks and streets of Indianapolis smacked into his head by Mike, he might have confused it for Indianapolis. There are straight streets, shops, residential areas, cars, people... Only, everything seems off, because it‘s all so similar, but still different. To Will, this is more than a bit unsettling.

 

The same seems to go for Mike, because he doesn‘t even propose to break the rules Hopper has set for the day.

 

„Stick close to me. This isn‘t Indy, and I don‘t want you to get lost. No shoplifting, no street corner scams, no pickpocketing. We‘re just gonna eat something, get ourselves some information on how to get to Ravenna, and then we‘re off.“

 

Will agrees whole-heartedly. The quicker they get out of here, the quicker they can look for Jonathan. He just hopes his brother is still in Ravenna.

 

Walking in close proximity to Hopper, who is leading the way, the first thing they look for is food. With 50 Dollars at their disposal, they decide to get something real for once. A warm meal to start the day and the hardest part of their journey so far. A small diner is offering breakfast, so they settle down around a table there.

 

And then, Will gets to eat bacon. Real meat, not that canned stuff Hopper cooked once every other week. This is a hundred times better. Dripping with grease, hot and crispy, just as it should be. The eggs are real too, and the bread is soft for once, and without moldy bits that have to be cut away to make it edible.

 

It‘s early enough for the diner to be empty, so Hopper can talk freely, if a bit hushed so the waitress doesn‘t hear. „Byers, we look alike, so you‘re my son. Wheeler, you‘re my nephew. That‘s how we‘re gonna travel from now on, got it? People don‘t need to know you‘re running around with a complete stranger.“

 

„Stranger?“ Mike asks, bits of egg falling from his mouth. „You‘re not-“

 

„We‘re not related. And if I‘m not your father or uncle, I might be some sick abductor.“ The man goes on to drink from his small metal flask. Neither Mike nor Will ever ask him where he gets that much booze. He has been drinking non-stop on the train. „And we‘re from Illinois. I don‘t think people ‘round here heard about Indy, but better safe than sorry.“

 

„So we‘re taking your last name now?“ Will inquires.

 

„Looks like it. William Hopper. Doesn‘t sound too bad, hm?“

 

„And... I mean... what‘s next?“

 

„Next we‘re gonna look for a way to get to Ravenna. I...“ Hopper sighs, long and heavy, before going on. „I think we‘re gonna have to walk for a while and hitchhike. Just head in the general direction and hope someone picks us up.“

 

„You look dangerous.“ Mike points out. „No one‘s gonna let us in their car.“

 

„Hah.“ Hopper chuckles. „But I got you two. Counting on people‘s pity for some poor kids. One of you might wanna fake a limp when a car passes by.“

 

„It‘s still gonna take a few days. Where are we gonna sleep?“

 

„That‘s no problem. Let‘s just hope we don‘t end up on the road in the middle of the night. We‘d have to camp out in the open by the side of the road. But the map says there‘s enough towns between here and Ravenna, if we stick to the highway. You should eat up. We need all our strength for this. If we have to walk the entire way, that‘s gonna take a week.“

 

* * *

 

 _A week_. This echoes on Will‘s mind around noon, when they finally set off from Lincoln. A week at max. A week until he might see Jonathan for the first time in two and a half years. This very moment, a long, perfectly straight stretch of road ahead of him, he feels exhilarated. Thrilled. They are moving. It‘s really happening!

 

Saying goodbye to Lincoln was easy, having only spent about six hours there. The hearty breakfast is still comfortably residing in his stomach, causing him a feeling of immense satisfaction and zest for action. He almost wants to scream out _Have at me, world! Go on, try it!_

 

But instead he looks over at Mike, who is carrying just as much gear as Will is. „Hey, Mike?“

 

„Hm?“

 

„What did it feel like for you? Leaving home, I mean.“

 

Mike leans his head back for a second, as if trying to remember a long gone time. „Sad.“ he admits. „But also... I... I know what you mean.“

 

Will cracks a smile at Mike‘s understanding. „I thought I was free. I think that was the best day of my life. The best few hours. Until I got hungry.“

 

Mike bellows with laughter, causing Hopper, who is walking a few feet ahead, to spy over his shoulder. „Hunger always gets the best of us, doesn‘t it?“

 

„Yeah.“ Will agrees. „But not yet. We got a couple of hours. So...“

 

„So we‘re free. For now.“ Mike says this, he grins wide and toothy, he even reaches over to ruffle Will‘s hair, only to realize that, oh yeah, Will is wearing a cap now. But then again, Mike looks terribly pale. And that has Will worried.


	4. Destructive Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I'm making up for the long wait between chapters 2 and 3. My leg is doing well, I'm really relaxed, so I oozeed this out in a few hours.
> 
> Also... I'm sorry. Really.

By the end of day one, Will has seen it all. By the end of day two he is convinced, he isn‘t going to see anything new or out of the ordinary in a while. The beginning of day three only confirms that.

 

It‘s a highway, straight as it could be in a land flat as it could be. They never encounter the slightest rise in terrain, and Will wonders what it would look like to lay down a ten mile long ruler on the road. It would fit perfectly, he thinks.

 

Still, with all the nowhere around them, Will hasn‘t hit the edge of frustration yet. After all, they have a purpose, an ultimate destination that is now within their reach. They‘re coming closer with every day, with every hour, with every heavy step they take.

 

However, they are slowing down. The first days were fine; Walking, or rather running for Will and Mike, was daily business back in Indianapolis. There was no way to get places for them except for their own two feet, and they were more than fine with that, because it was just another form of freedom they enjoyed.

 

Now, though, Will would gladly give up that freedom, let someone else decide the pace and the route, if he could just rest his feet for a few hours. Hitchhiking isn‘t a thing. The few cars that come by, ten a day at best, just rush by without even slowing down. More than once the driver honks at them, maybe to ridicule.

 

The towns they come across aren‘t much help either. They usually provide food. Shelter for the night in an alley between two stores. But never a means of transportation. It must truly be the middle of nowhere, if there aren‘t even any buses. They could easily afford a ticket and be in Ravenna in a matter of hours.

 

So, on the third day, the three of them are walking slowly, sometimes wincing at the pain in their feet. Hopper seems only a little better off than Will, while Mike looks absolutely terrible. But he too keeps up the pace. Will doesn‘t like that at all.

 

„Mike? You... you don‘t look too good.“ he finally speaks up, when he can‘t bear the sight of his friend, pale as a ghost and sweating like a pig anymore. It‘s November. 45 degrees at best, so he shouldn‘t be sweating at all.

 

„I‘m fine.“ Mike pants gruffly. „Let‘s just go a little faster.“ He wavers dangerously when he tries to speed up his steps. Hopper, a few feet ahead of them, seems oblivious to this so far.

 

„Or we could sit down for a while. Have something to eat and drink.“ Will offers.

 

„No.“ Mike insists. „We don‘t wanna waste time now.“

 

„Why? A day or two delay won‘t hurt us. I mean, it won‘t hurt as much as you breaking down on us.“

 

But Mike just seems taken aback by this, as if insulted by Will proposing he could need a rest. „Dammit, Byers!“ he snaps „I told you, I‘m fine.“

 

He doesn‘t sound half as menacing as he probably thinks, so Will doesn‘t let it rest. „You‘ve been wheezing all night, Mike. Something‘s up. I‘m gonna ask Hop, maybe-“

 

„No!“ Mike‘s right hand painfully clasps around Will‘s mouth to shut him up. The woolen glove tickles his nose, and he ends up sneezing. Hopper finally turns around to look what‘s going on, and Mike‘s shoulders slump in defeat.

 

„Anything wrong back there?“ Hopper grunts.

 

„Yeah. Mike isn‘t feeling well.“ Will explains. „But he doesn‘t want to admit it because he‘s a stubborn shit.“

 

„Language!“ The bearded man turns back to push them both to the side of the road. „Okay, let me see. He‘s right. You look like hell, kid. Had anything funny to eat?“

 

Mike shakes his head. He really looks like the exhaustion is catching up to him now. „The same as you had.“ he says quietly.

 

„Hm.“ Hopper removes one of his gloves to feel Mike‘s forehead. „Dammit. You‘re burning up. There‘s no way we‘re taking one more step today.“

 

Will breathes out, long and pained. Should he be relieved that Hopper is doing the right thing? Or worried for Mike? Because his friend obviously is in a bad way, judging from his gray skin, dull eyes with dark rings around them, and sweat running down on him like a waterfall.

 

„Still got water?“

 

„Got enough.“ Mike confirms. They all sit down on the ground, which is far from optimal right between a wide open field and the road. But, as Hopper said, there is no way to proceed. Even if it‘s just noon and the next town is miles away. Mike goes on to greedily drink from his canteen. „Just an hour, okay?“

 

„Forget it, kid. I got everything I need to make a small fire. We got food for the night, water, our sleeping bags... We‘re staying right here, if you like it or not.“

 

That is reassuring. Hopper seems to know what he is doing. Will can only imagine what it would be like without him. As well as he and Mike know their way around this world by now, having an experienced adult is probably the only thing that keeps them alive.

 

And so they stay. Mike wraps himself in a blanket, shivering. It looks like he has given up pretending. But it‘s just a fever. Things like these happen. Will had it before, and it was nothing something warm to eat and drink couldn‘t fix. So what if it takes a few days?

 

* * *

 

It‘s pretty bad. Will‘s concern might be growing as the afternoon passes, but the early evening, when the sun starts to set at the straight line of the horizon, has him in full-blown panic.

 

„Hey, kid?“ Hopper approaches a trembling Mike, who Will keeps securely in his arms, as if that would help. After zipping up the fly on his pants, he sits down close to them.

 

„Huh?“ Mike groans.

 

„You‘ve been sitting there all day.“

 

„So what?“ Mike's speech is dangerously slurred.

 

„And you‘ve been drinking water like there‘s no tomorrow.“

 

Will furrows his brows. He at least believes to understand what Hopper is about. Mike hasn‘t moved an inch since he sat down in this exact place. Will and Hopper both had to go pee at least once. But what does that have to do with anything?

 

„Show me your hand.“ Hopper then orders.

 

Mike shakily does so, sticking his right hand out from under the blanket. Hopper roughly grabs hold of it, turning it around while slipping the glove off, all in one smooth motion. Nothing. Just Mike‘s hand. But Hopper seems more interested in the glove.

 

„What‘s this?“ he asks, sticking his stubby fingers through a long rip right at the palm of the glove. „These gloves were brand new. When did that happen?“

 

Will only pulls away because he suddenly feels the need to see Mike‘s face. His breath hitches when he sees only white in his rolled up eyes. The panic really sets in when Hopper reaches under the blanket, pulls out Mike‘s left hand, with the black glove in perfect condition, and slips that one off to.

 

The sun is just casting enough light on them for Will to see the dark gray and red flesh around a long, frayed cut that extends from between Mike‘s index and middle finger all the way to his wrist. He wants to vomit, but keeps it together.

 

„Shit!“

 

„How did this happen?“ Will gasps, but Hopper pays him no mind, and Mike doesn‘t answer either.

 

„Kid, where are we? Tell me where we are!“ the man begins shaking Mike, trying to pull him back into this world from wherever he is right now.

 

But Mike‘s eyes remain locked the way they are, not showing any signs of life. „H-home...“ he mumbles. „N-nice a-a-and warm... he hit me first, ma...“

 

„How?“ Will shouts through a surge of adrenaline.

 

„Goddammit! The fence!“ Hopper snarls.

 

Will feels as if punched in the face. Of course. Mike fell. He ripped open his hand on the rusty barbed wire. And when they weren‘t looking he switched his gloves so it‘s less obvious. And now something is wrong.

 

„Okay, pack up, Byers. He needs a doctor.“

 

Will obeys, but can‘t contain his fear and questions. „What‘s wrong with him? Can‘t you do anything?“ He hastily stuffs everything he can find on the ground into their bags.

 

„No. We gotta get him Penicillin. Everything I could do would make it worse.“ Hopper roughly rips the blanket from Mike, whose shivers only increase. „And no blankets for him, or the fever is gonna kill him before-“

 

„Kill him?“ Will yelps. This can‘t be real. This must be a bad dream, maybe caused by moldy bread or the unrelenting cold. Will is sure, he is just lying on a piece of cardboard in some dirty alleyway, thrashing around in a nightmare. But no, this is all too real, and there is no time for doubt.

 

Will carries everything he can. Hopper carries Mike over his shoulder. Like that they head back out. But they aren‘t under any illusions. The next town is further away than they can walk in the few hours Mike probably has left. „What‘s wrong with him?“

 

„Looks like blood poisoning.“ Hopper only quickens his steps, forcing Will to all but run after him. „Shit, I shoulda known earlier. Hang in there, kid.“

 

Will wants to tell Mike the same. He hurries after Hopper, eyes fixated on Mike, who is dangling from the man‘s shoulder, his eyes open wide but blurry. _This can‘t be happening! Just three days in!_

 

Mike was safe, or relatively safe, in Indianapolis for almost two years. And now he ventures out with Will, _for_ Will, and might die on the third day. The road ahead is so long. Long and monotonous enough to let Will‘s thoughts go haywire.

 

* * *

 

Will doesn‘t have a watch. All he can rely on is the sun and the moon, the latter of which is hanging high on the black, cloudless sky by now. It must have been hours, and still, Hopper is walking fast, and Will is running after him. He doesn‘t allow himself to feel the pain. Not as long as Mike is fighting for his life. He is still breathing, deep and erratic, but strong at least.

 

„Look!“ Will suddenly screams after a quick gaze at the road behind him. _Light! Headlights!_ They are approaching fast, but not nearly fast enough for Will‘s taste. Whoever that is, they might be their last hope. A final straw Will can cling on to.

 

A look at Hopper is enough to make his stomach churn again. „The hell are you doing?“ He exclaims, staring at the revolver in Hopper‘s hand.

 

„This might be our only chance.“ he says, unmoved. „I‘m gonna do what I have to do.“

 

And Will can only gawk at the approaching lights, nervous tension increasing into yet unknown heights. He feels sick, standing there in the middle of the road alongside Hopper and the now unconscious Mike. They effectively block the way for the car, that soon slowly comes to a halt right in front of them, mere feet away.

 

Hopper immediately approaches, gun raised at the driver‘s side. Will, irrationally, follows close. He can‘t leave Mike alone now. He can‘t let his only friend out of his proximity. The driver rolls his window down. No, _her_ window. In the driver‘s seat Will sees an elderly lady, dark hair, yellow blouse, with kind eyes behind thick glasses that cover half her face. Eyes that show no fear whatsoever.

 

„Are you going to use that thing on me, young man?“ she asks calmly.

 

„If you don‘t step out of the car.“ Hopper sighs. „I‘m sorry.“

 

„And what if I take you wherever you have to go?“

 

„Please!“ Will chimes in. This is taking too long! „He‘s dying!“

 

She only now seems to recognize the bundle hanging from Hopper‘s shoulder as a person. „Dear lord! Get in, get in!“

 

„I‘m driving.“ Hopper insists, but the lady huffs in response.

 

„I‘m driving, because I know the way to a doctor. Unless you want to waste any more time.“ She looks at Hopper sternly, then kindly blinks at Will. „You kids go in the backseat so he can lie down. As for you...“ she turns back to Hopper. „Feel free to point that thing at me for the drive. It‘s about an hour to Aurora.“

 

„Okay, get in.“ Hopper quickly pulls open the rear door on the dark Cadillac and pushes Will inside. He hastily, but as gently as he can, lays Mike down so that his head ends up in Will‘s lap, where he just breathes, raspy and labored. The heat of his fever-ridden body radiates from him. And, to Will‘s relief, Hopper opts not to point the gun at the lady once he is in the passenger‘s seat.

 

Something that Will doesn‘t expect is the engine to howl, or the acceleration. Soon the car all but flies down the dark highway. Without anything to do for probably the next hour, Will reaches over for Mike‘s uninjured hand to feel his racing pulse. And he‘ll be damned if he lets go before they arrive at the doctor‘s house.

 

„Ma‘am...“ Hopper starts quietly, and with an impossible amount of regret. „I wouldn‘t have shot you. I just can‘t-“

 

„Well, if this was my kid, I would have shot anyone before even asking questions.“ she responds, holding the wheel steady. „And don‘t call me Ma‘am. That makes me feel even older than I am. I‘m Florence. Or Flo, if you‘re in a hurry.“

 

„We are.“ Hopper nods. „In a hurry, I mean. He cut himself and didn‘t tell me.“

 

„So it‘s blood poisoning?“ she guesses.

 

At her words, Will‘s hand clutches around Mike‘s wrist painfully. How can his heart be racing like that? It‘s just unnatural. „Y-you said it‘s gonna take an h-hour?“ he weakly speaks up.

 

„I can squeeze fifteen minutes out of that, dear.“ And something about her confident, calming voice soothes Will into believing there might be a one percent chance that Mike could get through this. That will have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I'm sorry. But I think we all should appreciate Hopper and Flo.


	5. Arson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really flowing out of me right now. I'm enjoying myself here. Let me just say... poor Mike.

_Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!_

 

Mike‘s pulse just goes on and on, beating how fast? Five beats per second? Probably. It‘s so fast, so unnaturally racing, and even the skin of his wrist, where Will is feeling his heartbeat, seems to be on fire. A few degrees more and it could begin blistering. This is no doubt the worst hour in Will‘s entire life.

 

But Mike is alive. And they have reached the little town called Aurora, where that doctor is supposed to live. The streets, the sharp corners Florence takes so fast in makes Will and Mike slide around in the backseat, lies in absolute darkness and silence. It might be midnight, or even later.

 

Lucky for them, this really is nothing but a small town. Actually, Will would be inclined to call it a village, with no electric streetlights, to visible telephone lines and more old-timey carriages than cars standing in front of the tiny wooden houses. But from what he can see it seems to be laid out by a plan.

 

The house they stop in front, wheels locking up and tires swirling up gravel and dust, looks no different from the others around here. The pale reflects white of the wooden boards and fence around this humble two-story home, and an equally white sign on the front lawn reads _‚Samuel Owens, Ph.D, M.D, Physician‘_ , along with the painting of a snake wrapped around a staff. Will always forgets what it‘s called. _Staff of some Greek guy._

 

The car hasn‘t fully stopped yet, when Florence hastily says „Hurry! You might have to wake him up!“

 

But Hopper doesn‘t waste any time as it is. He rips his door open, then Will‘s, who reluctantly has to let go of Mike‘s pulse for the moment. The man then carries Mike up the steps to the small porch, but Will is at the door before him, pounding against it with such a force he might as well kick it in.

 

Frantically, he lets both his fists hammer on the thin wood over and over again. Then, suddenly, a window lights up upstairs. Then another one. Slow, lazy footsteps. _Too slow!_ Shouldn‘t a doctor be used to this, being awoken in the middle of the night with an emergency.

 

„Yes, yes, I‘m coming.“ The tired voice turns from muffled to perfectly clear as the door swings open. A stocky, gray man in his mid-fifties, with white pajamas and slippers, looks at them through sleep-ridden, dull eyes, but only until he fully understands the scene in front of him.

 

His professional side kicks in right then, and he reaches for Mike‘s face first. The boy in Hopper‘s arms groans, shuddering heavily. „Fever.“ the doctor mumbles. „The cause... the cause...“

 

„Cut himself.“ Hopper quickly explains.

 

„Sepsis.“ Doctor Owens nods. „Heart rate, breathing... Yes. Inside, quick!“ He goes on to pull Hopper and Will inside, closing the door. Will has no idea what has be come of Florence. The hall is short. They come across a fully equipped examination room first, with a stretcher, medical cabinets and a desk. „Not in here.“ Owens says. „The fever must be our first concern. Follow!“

 

He leads them into his squeaky-clean bathroom, where Will suddenly feels like a weird foreigner. Something dirty that doesn‘t belong here. With all four of them it‘s really crowded too. The doctor starts a bath. „I don‘t have ice in the house, so the cold water will have to do. Clothes off, into the tub. I‘ll be right back.“ Like that, he is gone, leaving Hopper to fumble with Mike‘s clothes. In his hurry, he rips a few buttons from his shirt. Will feels like he should maybe look away. But he can‘t bring himself to. He has to see what‘s happening.

 

A weak scream escapes Mike as Hopper carefully lowers him into the still rising cold water. Then the thrashing begins. Where Mike takes that amount of strength in his desolate state is absolutely beyond Will. He kicks, claws, punches at Hopper, tries to pull himself away from the cold.

 

„Stop it!“ Will can‘t stand to watch. „You‘re hurting him!“

 

Water splashes everywhere on the tiled walls, the floor, the mirror. It gets both Hopper and Will wet. „Forget it, kid. This is about the only thing keeping him alive right now.“

 

After some rustling over in the other room, Owens comes flying back into the bathroom. The syringe he is holding has Will terrified with its shiny chrome handle and thick needle. And Will even gags at the sight of Owens mercilessly pushing the syringe in Mike‘s arm, emptying whatever is inside entirely into his bloodstream. _Will wants to help! But what can he do except stand back and jump up and down in utter frustration?_

 

„Antibiotics?“ Hopper asks.

 

„Yes. Let‘s just hope it‘s not too late. When was he last conscious?“

 

„Around... sunset. Don‘t have a watch.“

 

„Good. That‘s good. He‘s stable for the moment.“ Owens breathes out once, long and heavy. „Let me see that cut.“

 

Now Hopper stands back too, just like Will does. And his face gives away the same urge to do something. Mike‘s head and injured hand that Owens is examining are now about the only parts of him not submerged in ice cold water. His breathing has steadied somewhat.

 

„I‘m gonna have to fix that to get rid of the infection. Mr... what‘s your name anyways?“

 

„Jim Hopper. My son, William.“ Hopper taps on Will‘s shoulder briefly. „My nephew, Michael.“ He points at the tub. This has Will hoping the doctor won‘t ask any more questions.

 

„Sam Owens. But you already knew that, I suppose. Mr Hopper, would you watch over Michael for a second? Just make sure he doesn‘t drown.“

 

Hopper nods, allowing Owens to head off again. Will, meanwhile, remains pressed against the wall. He can‘t bring himself to look. Everything went so fast, the adrenaline hasn‘t even started to wear off. _Stable_. Is that the word the doctor used? Will won‘t have that. Not until Mike is up and awake.

 

And then, Doctor Owens carries even more horrible things into the bathroom. A brown bottle, the label is too small for Will to read from the distance. A shiny metal tablet with clean paper towels, a scalpel, a bent needle.

 

„I‘d say we keep him in there for a few more minutes. Just until I‘m done with this. Keep his head above the water.“ Owens‘ tone is now businesslike, void of emotion. „That is one nasty cut. How did it happen?“

 

„I think it was barbed wire. But he didn‘t tell me, so...“

 

„So it had to come close to killing him before you could even react.“ the doctor deduces. „Hold him still. I‘m pretty sure he won‘t even feel this.“

 

„Pretty sure?“ Will breathes, but the men ignore him.

 

First, Owens pours a generous amount from the bottle over Mike‘s injured hand. Seconds later, with a sickening sound, the scalpel begins cutting away on the spot. Will‘s view is obstructed, but a worrying amount of black skin ends up on the tablet.

 

* * *

 

The fire is crackling. It promises safety. Even more than it usually does outside. On the radio, Frank Sinatra seems hell bent on lulling Will to sleep, but he is determined to stay strong, even if there isn‘t even a reason not to give in; Mike is okay, sleeping. Wrapped in towels and blankets on Owens‘ living room couch. In a place this clean, Will feels like somewhat of a dirty spot that needs to be wiped off.

 

He just sits there, on the carpet, leaned against the couch to be able to keep his fingers on Mike‘s pulse. All while his eyes stay glued to the ten perfect stitches it took Owens to mend the horrible cut.

 

„Since none of us will be able to sleep...“ the doctor quietly says, bringing in a tablet with three steaming mugs. „...I figured we could use coffee. Or tea, in your case.“ Will is handed one of the mugs. It‘s large, full to the brim and _so heavy_. Holding Mike‘s hand proves difficult that way. „With enough sugar to make up for lost energy.“ Owens smiles kindly. He sits down next to Hopper on the second couch.

 

„Hey, doc.“ Hopper sighs, taking a deep drag from his coffee. „I can‘t thank you enough. How much for this? I don‘t have much, but what I have is-“

 

„It‘s 2 in the morning.“ Owens chuckles. „And you‘re really trying to talk about money?“

 

„Well, someone‘s gotta pay you.“

 

„I suppose you could pay me.“ the doctor contemplates. „Or... I mean if it‘s fine with you...“

 

„I got about 40 Dollars.“ Hopper begins. He doesn‘t quite seem to get what Owens is about right now.

 

„From the way you look... no offense... you probably need it more than I do. But I was saying, there‘s something else you could do. You know, my garage...“

 

„Your garage?“

 

„It‘s really messy.“ Owens groans, even blushing a little. Will can see why. This house is so neatly arranged and clean, a messy garage doesn‘t fit the image. „I can‘t even get my car inside anymore. If you would just clean it up. Realistically speaking, I‘d miss out on at least one work day if I tried it myself, so that would be more than enough to cover your expenses. Just rest for a while first. You‘re not leaving for at least a week anyways.“

 

Will chokes on his sweet tea. Hopper coughs. „What do you mean, we‘re not leaving?“

 

„Isn‘t that obvious? Michael is in no condition to travel right now, and I want to watch him for a few days. The alternative would be the hospital over in Grand Island, but that‘s expensive. No, you‘re staying right here where I can see my patient.“

 

„Doc...“ Hopper clears his throat. „I can‘t possibly- that‘s...“

 

„Well, you and William are free to leave. But there‘s no way I‘m letting Michael out there right now. So, I guess you‘re staying too. I don‘t think you could pry these two apart anyways.“ Owens points at Will, acknowledging the way he keeps his fingers on Mike‘s wrist.

 

Will just wishes he could express a fraction of the gratefulness that‘s filling him up.

 

* * *

 

By the early morning, Mike still is asleep. But that is an improvement. Sleep isn‘t the same as unconsciousness, as Doctor Owens explains so well. Mike is _resting_. Regaining his strength, and so far it doesn‘t look like the fever is about to come back. For the most part, they just listen to the music on the radio for a few hours. No one is willing to let Mike out of his sight or grasp for even a second.

 

„So... What got you three on the road? You look like you've been through a lot.“ Owens inquires around the time the first rays of sunlight crack up the most horrible, frightening night of Will‘s life. He decides to let Hopper speak. The last thing he wants is to let anything slip about Indianapolis.

 

Hopper doesn‘t answer immediately. His brows furrow, as if he is weighing his options. „Ravenna isn‘t far, is it?“

 

„Ravenna.“ the doctor repeats. „Two counties over. I wasn‘t there in years. Not since the war. Back then I was the only doctor in three counties, not counting the hospital, of course. What‘s there for you?“

 

„It‘s...“ Hopper bites his lip. „We‘re looking for someone there.“ So, he has decided to trust Owens. Will thinks he is right to do so. „See, I‘m not really related to those kids. I just... picked them up on the streets.“

 

„Hmm.“ Owens nods, chuckling. „I figured that much. None of my business. Well, I don‘t know people over there too well.“

 

„My brother.“ Will says. „Haven‘t seen him in two and a half years. His name is Jonathan.“

 

Will‘s stomach churns when Owens drops the pipe he was just preparing for himself. „Jonathan Byers?“ he asks, concern swinging in his voice.

 

„Y-you know him?“

 

„I only know the rumors. You better not tell anyone around here that he‘s your brother. Unless you‘re looking for trouble, that is.“

 

 _Rumors?_ Jesus Christ, that doesn‘t sound good. „What happened?“

 

Owens slowly picks up his pipe. „I can‘t tell you if any of this is true.“ he carefully begins. „But the people talk. Especially when they‘re drunk. So I think I got most of it. From what I‘ve heard, he came here last year in the summer. People say he was about fifteen then, and who wouldn‘t pity a fifteen year old kid with no job and no home? Neil Hargrove took him in, gave him work on his farm and all that.“ He gulps audibly. „But... he‘s not here anymore.“

 

Will was prepared for something like that. It still feels like a kick to the stomach. „Why? Where‘d he go?“

 

„I have no idea where he is.“ Owens sighs. „But... William, again, I don‘t know if this is true. People just tell this story.“

 

„Tell me!“ Will insists, so harshly that he adds „Please!“ to sound less rude.

 

„Jonathan left in May. Apparently... apparently he set Neil‘s barn on fire, stole his car, and just... disappeared. Something like that happens, the entire state knows about it within two weeks. At least in Nebraska.“

 

This can‘t be Jonathan the doctor is talking about. He wouldn‘t do that. Not Will‘s brother Jonathan. He‘s not some sort of arsonist or car thief. At least he wasn‘t when Will last saw him. But what are the odds of another Jonathan Byers, the same age as Will‘s brother, coming around here at the same time, going to the same place. Will feels defeated.

 

„To be fair, Neil Hargrove is a damned bastard. Excuse my choice of words, but it‘s the truth. Everyone between here and North Platte knows that.“ Owens spits his name out like bile. „So if your brother really did what they say, maybe he had a good reason. Who knows... who knows... Your brother probably left the state. Of course, police are still looking for him. If he is smart, he's far away.“

 

Hopper was surprisingly quiet until now. „Well, we‘re going after him.“

 

„You still want to do this?“ Will gasps.

 

„What, you think I‘m gonna stay _here_ for the winter? No offense, doc.“

 

„None taken. I don‘t know a single person who lives here because they like it.“ Owens shrugs it off.

 

That coaxes a dry chuckle out of Hopper. He goes back to his usual, serious ways in a matter of seconds, though. „I think we‘re gonna have to visit Neil Hargrove.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, there you have it. Jonathan is an arsonist. But is there more to it?


	6. A Week Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Why didn't I update earlier? Meh, I've been feeling down. Sorry.

Sunlight floods the room. So far, the sky of Nebraska wasn‘t a beautiful sight, but today the thick layer of clouds finally seems to break up to let warm, orange light through. The last vestiges of fall before winter sheds its cold, cold snow over the great plains. It‘s going to happen, and Will whole-heartedly hopes they will be long gone, or with a place to stay at least, when the snow comes. With no trees, so shelter, just endless flat land, it could be fatal.

 

But that‘s a worry for another time. November isn‘t over yet, and maybe the snow will wait for another three or four weeks.

 

As for the moment, Will is warm and safe in Doctor Owens‘ living room. Though he can‘t say he is particularly comfortable, after sitting on the floor, not letting Mike‘s wrist with the steady, strong heartbeat go for almost ten hours.

 

The two of them are alone right now, with the Doctor gone to do his everyday business, and Hopper doing what he can to clean up the garage, just like he promised. Owens insisted on him resting, but Hopper made it clear that he doesn‘t ever procrastinate, and that a bit of work might help clear his head. He doesn‘t say it, but he is beyond mad. Will is too, if he has to be honest. Mike just could have told them in the beginning. Then he wouldn‘t lie here, exhausted after a near-death experience.

 

However, Will‘s anger is forgotten as soon as he hears a raspy voice behind him. „Will?“

 

His head snaps around to find Mike‘s blurry eyes open for the first time in what, twelve hours? The sight has Will smiling sadly. He has no idea what to say. How much does Mike know anyways? Is he even aware how close he came to dying, just because he wouldn‘t come clean about his injury? They look at each other for a long while.

 

„I‘m naked.“ Mike notes. That is true. Wrapped in towels and blankets, with only his head and arms sticking out, he is, in fact, not wearing anything.

 

„Your- your clothes are next door. The old lady there does the doctor‘s laundry.“ Will explains. „Sucks when you only own one outfit, right?“

 

„Sucks.“ Mike weakly says. „It‘s... it‘s Doctor Owens, right?“

 

„How much do you remember?“ Will is surprised that Mike even got Owens‘ name. One would think he was completely unconscious by the time Florence brought them here.

 

„Some stuff. I‘m... I‘m pretty sure you guys put me in a bathtub. It was cold.“

 

„Had to be. You were almost dead. Owens stitched up your hand.“

 

„My hand.“ Mike mumbles, bringing up his injured hand to take a look. „I-“

 

„How is it? Hurts?“

 

Mike gulps. „I- Will... I didn‘t tell you.“

 

„Yeah.“ Will nods, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. „And it almost got you killed. That‘s enough punishment. Want something to drink?“ He offers Mike a large glass of water from the living room table. Owens left it there for him. Mike doesn‘t think twice. He greedily gulps down the whole thing, and then falls back against the soft armrest.

 

„I didn‘t want to slow you down.“ His eyes close in defeat. Will knows he‘s going to see tears once his friend opens them again. „Got you into enough trouble already.“

 

„Are you still about Indianapolis?“ Will realizes, it‘s a stupid question. They only left five days ago, but after everything that happened, five days seem like an eternity to him. But of course Mike is about Indianapolis. He killed a man less than a week ago. How is he supposed to be over it? „Just so you know, we‘re gonna stay here for a week. The doctor wants to watch you for a while.“

 

„A week.“ Mike rasps out.

 

Will knows what he‘s thinking. „It doesn‘t matter. Jonathan left half a year ago. We're just taking a week off, okay?“

 

And then, he goes on explaining. About how some farmer accuses Jonathan of burning down his barn, stealing his car. How Will‘s brother is wanted in Nebraska and had to leave. Mike listens, answers, asks questions. He has changed. Will doesn‘t like that at all.

 

A week ago he wouldn‘t have though he‘d ever miss it, but now he just wants a smack to the head from him. Just to be sure Mike is okay. He wants the old carrot-and-stick Mike. A smack for a mistake, a few words of praise for doing things right. Things were easy back then. Mike always knew what to do, how to get out of any situation. Now he‘s all insecurity and exhaustion.

 

 _Give him some time to rest_ , Will thinks. They have a whole week without having to worry about food or shelter, after all.

 

They spend some time in silence.

 

„Hey, Will?“

 

„Yeah?“

 

„You‘ve been sitting down there all night?“ Mike asks. „Without sleeping?“

 

„Had to make sure you don‘t die.“ Will mumbles. He doesn‘t even want to imagine that. It‘s just too terrible of a thought.

 

Mike props himself up on his elbows. „Your ass must hurt. Get up here.“ Slowly, carefully, he goes on to sit up straight, always making sure the blanket stays draped around his body. It‘s too late to protest, too late to tell Mike he should lay down for a little while longer, so Will does as he is told.

 

„See? I‘m still giving the orders here.“ Mike snorts.

 

The couch is soft, a welcome relief to Will‘s, admittedly, sore behind. „Good. I wouldn‘t know what to do if you didn‘t. Let me see your hand?“

 

Mike sticks it out from under the blanket. It‘s the first time Will gets a good look at the stitches. There are so many of them, the pattern is perfect. The formerly ugly, dirty cut is now perfectly clean, white, if maybe a bit swollen.

 

„I don‘t feel a thing.“ Mike admits. „Pretty much from the beginning. It stopped hurting after a minute a-and I though it‘d get b-better.“

 

And Will can‘t bring himself to be angry with him. He reaches around Mike from both sides to rub the blanket up and down his shoulders. That‘s totally unnecessary; It‘s warm in here. But maybe it‘s a gesture. If it is, Will is only half-sure what it actually means.

 

* * *

 

A week that is over quicker than Will thought, considering how monotonous it turns out. Mike can‘t do a lot, though he is up and walking as soon as he has his clothes back. The ordeal took a toll on him, though, and by day four, he is back to maybe half his usual strength at best. Which is still strong, but seriously unfit for walking eight hours a day.

 

Florence comes by once to check up on them. She doesn‘t even mention the fact that Hopper pointed a gun at her with a single word. In fact, she and Hopper get along as good as two complete strangers can after knowing each other for just a few hours. They all have their clothes washed by old Mrs Leary next door, and she even hands them down some shirts from her late husband. In her own words „Take as many as you can carry.“

 

They do, so a shortage of clothes shouldn‘t be a problem, despite them being way too large for either Will and Mike, but also slightly too small for Hopper. It doesn‘t matter. Nothing they have to wear fits. Will is used to it, his tugged in shirt reaching down to his knees, his too long pants rolled up at the ankles and held up by suspenders.

 

Then, on day eight, in the backseat of Doctor Owens‘ car, Will feels better equipped than ever. Confident that they will eventually find Jonathan, he watches nothing pass by at sixty miles an hour. Then, a little more nothing. And even more of that, because they are, in fact, surrounded by nothing.

 

„Hargrove‘s farm is about thirty miles west of Grand Island.“ Owens explains from the driver‘s seat. „You could maybe catch a bus to Ravenna and let the driver drop you off ten miles behind Cairo. At least, I wouldn‘t advise you to walk. People are careful when it comes to hitchhikers around here, so you‘d have to spend a night out in the open.“

 

„We‘ve done that before.“ Mike shrugs.

 

„Yes. Before you narrowly escaped death by blood poisoning.“

 

That shuts Mike up and sends a flush up his cheeks. Will leans over to squeeze his shoulder. There is something like an unspoken agreement between him and Hopper not to mention this anymore. Mike hates how he has caused them all this trouble, and they don‘t need to remind him of it constantly. Owens isn‘t in on this agreement, though.

 

„If there‘s a bus, we take it.“ Hopper speaks up. „Walking is always a last resort.“ Saying that, he turns around to look at Mike. As always, it‘s hard to read his expression, but maybe it‘s apologetic. Mike smiles relieved.

 

„Can we afford it?“

 

„I‘d say we can spare a Dollar. We got about 35 left of the 50 we-“ Hopper cuts himself short there. Naturally, he can‘t tell Owens they broke into a store and killed a police officer. „...of the 50 Dollars we had.“

 

* * *

 

The car ride lasts a good hour. It‘s not uncomfortable, tense, or frightening like the last time Will sat in a car. They‘re all fine, in good spirits, well rested and absolutely willing to go about their way.

 

The black Pontiac pulls into the parking lot near the Grand Island hospital, where Doctor Owens wants to attend a lecture of some sort. „You‘re never done learning.“ he proclaimed when he announced it to them, with the promise of taking them along in his car. This greatly shortens their way to Neil Hargrove‘s farm and saves them money.

 

„There we are.“ Owens sighs. „I‘ve got to say, I‘m gonna miss the extra life around the house.“

 

„Want us to stay indefinitely?“ Hopper quips. „Sorry, doc. We got a mission.“ Hopper doesn‘t explicitly say it, but Will figures, he actually enjoys having purpose. Something that he lost after the war. He himself is the first one to admit it; War was the only thing he was actually good at.

 

„I know. And I wish you the best of luck with it.“ Owens turns around to the backseat. „Hand.“

 

Mike shows his palm. „I still don‘t feel anything.“

 

„I figured.“ Owens says. „That could be nerve damage. You palm might remain numb, I‘m sorry.“

 

Mike takes it well. „Not your fault. I‘m still alive.“

 

„That‘s the spirit. I‘d say you give it another ten days, then you can remove the stitches. It‘s important that you keep that hand clean until then. Understood?“

 

„Got it.“

 

„Good.“ The doctor briefly smiles at each of them. „Then it‘s goodbye.“

 

They thank Owens. Especially Hopper can‘t seem to get over all of this. For such a harsh, serious man, he turns surprisingly emotional.

 

Owens laughs a bit exasperated at the man‘s third attempt at thanking him. „We‘re more than even.“ he insists. „You cleaned my garage. Do you have any idea how many lives I‘ll be able to save this winter if I don‘t have to spend half an hour scratching ice off my windshield?“

 

The way he winks at Will and Mike causes Will a thought so funny, he actually laughs. What if Owens keeps his garage messy just for these occasions? For people who can‘t pay? It‘s bullshit, of course. That wouldn‘t make any sense. But it might fit the doctor‘s character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand this chapter turned out longer than I wanted. I'm really trying to keep this fic a bit faster paced than 'It's the doubt.' (which is gonna stay on hiatus for a little while longer). So far, I think I'm doing a good job at leaving out some of the descriptive details I'd usually include.


	7. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This is really long compared to the other chapters. Prepare for some tears.

The last time Will‘s ass was hurting was after ten or so hours of sitting on the carpet in Doctor Owens‘ living room. It does again now, from the bumpy bus ride that took longer than expected due to the less than satisfactory condition of the road leading west from Grand Island. The unpadded seats did their best at relaying the potholes right into Will‘s buttcheeks. Still, it‘s better than being cold, miserable and sore all over after two days of walking.

 

The tickets were cheap, less than Dollar for the three of them, and it was definitely worth it. From what the map tells them, they have less than twenty minutes to walk from the side of the highway down a backroad. Neil Hargrove‘s farm is situated pretty much in between towns, but legally belongs to Ravenna, even if it‘s several miles away.

 

As per usual, Hopper leads the way. They don‘t discuss this, it just happens naturally. Will and Mike fall back; Most of the time they don‘t have anything to say to the man, which doesn‘t mean they don‘t enjoy his presence. He has certainly grown on to Will in the past months, but even more so in the past week.

 

That terrible ordeal has lead to Will never letting Mike out of his sight. He can‘t let something like this happen again. But he is also sure Mike has learned his lesson. He won‘t lie or keep secrets from them again any time soon. Still, Will is afraid. Coming so close to losing Mike, he really got a chance to think about what he would do without his first ever friend. The world is just so full of danger, so cold and evil at times, he just can‘t keep his eyes off Mike.

 

„Gotta make sure we‘re on the same page here.“ Hopper starts after a few minutes of silence. „From what the doc knows, this Hargrove guy isn‘t exactly a bundle of joy. You‘re still my son and nephew. And I do all the talking. Understood?“

 

„Yeah.“ both of them agree. That won‘t be hard. Will trusts Hopper more than he would trust himself with getting information about Jonathan out of Hargrove.

 

„Good. Stay near when we‘re talking. Don‘t wander off, don‘t touch his stuff. Last thing we need is being pumped full of lead.“

 

Mike flinches at Hopper‘s words. Will knows how much he hates the fact that Hopper kept the gun, and any reference to it, or really any other gun, brings back memories he‘d probably much rather forget. Will doubts Hopper will have to use it, though.

 

The farm comes into view soon. Actually, it was in view the entire time, being that they‘re in the middle of nowhere. It was just obstructed by two gigantic, old oak trees with barely any leaves left. Aside from one avenue back in Grand Island, these are the first trees Will has seen so far in Nebraska. It‘s an eerie sight, really, seeing them so alone in this vast, flat landscape.

 

They do a good job at hiding the large farm house from view. It‘s a two-storey home with a not too steep roof, and must have been pretty fancy at some point. Now, though, the white paint is cracked up, missing in places, and the wood visible underneath it looks darker than it should be. It might even be rotten from what Will can see.

 

The house isn‘t the only building. There‘s a barn. One that doesn‘t look burnt at all. In fact, it looks like it‘s in perfect condition. Certainly better than the house. Will can also see at least two shacks, maybe there are more behind the house, and a well, complete with pump and buckets.

 

He doesn‘t get to take a closer look at the dingy pickup truck though, because suddenly a deafening noise cracks in the air like whip, and something seems to explode right in front of Hopper‘s feet, who instinctively jumps away from the spot.

 

„Stop right there!“ a voice shouts. Will realizes two things. The first is, someone just fired a shotgun right at the ground only inches in front of Hopper. The second is, that someone is a girl. A pale girl with dirty, flaming red hair, threadbare blue overalls, a red plaid shirt, and a smug grin on her face. She is standing there, on the huge front porch, with one eye fixating Hopper through the shotgun‘s sights. „You guys from the bank?“ she demands.

 

„Kid, put that thing down.“ Hopper shouts over to her.

 

Meanwhile, Will takes Mike‘s trembling hand, who gratefully presses down to calm himself.

 

„If you tell me what you want. If I like what you tell me.“ the girl hisses.

 

Hopper sighs, but makes no move to take his hands up. No signs of surrender. „This Neil Hargrove‘s farm?“ he asks.

 

„Depends on who‘s asking. I‘m supposed to shoot bankers. I-“ Her eyes finally find Will and Mike. They narrow. Her scowl is briefly interrupted by something Will can‘t put his finger on. As if she is going through a realization of some sort.

 

„Do we look like bankers?“ Hopper tugs at his ancient leather jacket with two fingers. „I guess you‘re-“

 

„Hey! What‘s going on here?“ That‘s another new voice from behind the house. Of course, the gunshot didn‘t go unnoticed. „Maxine! The hell you shooting at?“

 

„Some guy and two little kids!“ the girl, Maxine, shouts back. „Wanna talk to them?“

 

 _Little kids_ , Will thinks. He‘ll be damned if Maxine is a day older than he or Mike.

 

The man, likely Hargrove himself, then comes walking around the house. He looks furious, broad shoulders flexing, mustache dancing above his gritted teeth. „What‘s this about?“ he demands. „I don‘t remember inviting you on my land.“ He carefully stays out of Maxine‘s line of sight. It‘s obvious he wants her to remain ready to shoot.

 

„Mr Hargrove?“ Hopper asks, as politely as he can after being shot at.

 

„That‘s me.“ the other man grunts. „You‘re not from the bank.“

 

„Jim Hopper. And I‘m not from anywhere.“

 

Neil seems to like his choice of words. „Maxine. Put the gun down.“ he orders. But he offers no apology for the treatment. Maybe it‘s just how things work out here. Shoot first, ask questions later. „If you wanna sell stuff, I‘m not buying anything. Got everything I need right here.“

 

„I‘m just here ‘cause I was told you could help me with something.“

 

„Help you.“ Hargrove repeats skeptically. „Depends.“

 

„I‘m looking for someone.“ Hopper goes on. „The name‘s Jonathan Byers.“

 

„Maxine!“ Neil Hargrove suddenly shouts so loud it makes both Will and Mike jump.

 

The girl on the porch doesn‘t do anything. Her eyes have widened almost comically. The shotgun is hanging limp from her hand. Within a second, Neil is by her side. An ugly _Crack!_ sounds through the cold November air when he strikes her across the face, sending her falling to the wooden boards of the front porch. „Goddammit, girl!“ he yells. „Point that gun when I tell you to!“

 

She remains lying down, whimpering, while Hargrove points the barrel at Hopper again. „What‘s your business with Byers?“ he demands. „You got five seconds!“

 

„Trying to find him. Damn bastard put me out of business.“ Hopper quickly lies. Something he probably thought up earlier today to appease Hargrove. „Stole months worth of earnings from me last year.“

 

Slowly, carefully, Neil puts the gun down. „So people told you what that piece of shit did to me?“

 

Having Hopper lying about Jonathan like that is one thing. But Will can barely contain his anger at hearing Hargrove calling his brother a piece of shit. He doesn‘t have anything to hold on to, though. Holding hands with Mike all the time would maybe seem weird.

 

It‘s not just him talking about Jonathan, though. It‘s his demeanor. The way he struck his daughter. _Neil Hargrove. Lonnie Byers._ _What‘s the difference,_ Will thinks. He has just met his own father‘s doppelganger out here in the plains of Nebraska.

 

„Yeah. People told me.“ Hopper confirms. He has understood the other man as well as Will has. He takes a step back, painfully clasps his hand around Will‘s neck, and pushes him forward. „See how my son and nephew got to live now? Shit, I‘m gonna track Byers down, and if it‘s the last thing I do.“

 

Will decides to play his part. „Pa... stop, you‘re hurting-“ he whines, but is cut off by Hopper pushing him back so roughly he lands on his hands and knees. It hurts. Mike helps him up.

 

Hargrove looks at the scene, satisfied. „Billy! Billy, get down here! And you...“ he growls at Maxine. „Don‘t you have anything better to do than lying there?“

 

In a somehow choreographed looking change of actors, Maxine hurries to leave a scene, strangely keeping her eyes on Will for as long as she can, while a blonde boy steps out of the house. Will would guess his age at about sixteen, though he is taller than his father.

 

„Pa?“ he sighs heavily.

 

„Don‘t like your attitude, boy.“ Neil threatens. „This man‘s looking for Byers. Tell him what happened.“

 

The boy, Billy, eyes Hopper, Will and Mike for a second. „Set the barn on fire, ‘swhat he did.“ he spits out.

 

„And?“ Hargrove demands.

 

„Stole pa‘s car.“

 

„All while my useless son didn‘t do anything to stop him. Isn‘t that right, Billy?“

 

Billy looks at his feet, defeated. Will can‘t help but feel sorry for him. He knows how it is. With a father like Neil, whatever you do is wrong. You just have to do so much as look at him at the dinner table, and that earns you a thrashing you‘re gonna feel for three days.

 

„Sorry...“ Hopper interrupts. „Did you have the barn rebuilt after that?“

 

„You‘re goddamn right.“ Hargrove looks at the barn with contempt. „Instead of renovating the house.“

 

„And the car?“ Hopper points at the old truck. „Got yourself a new one?“

 

„Nah.“ the other man says. „Byers is a sneaky fucker. Not an idiot. Left the car at the border to Wyoming. Highway 26.“

 

And there it is! Will feels the need to jump with glee, but gets himself under control before it shows. They have a direction! A place to start looking! It‘s more than he hoped for, really. He looks at Mike, who, shielded by Hopper‘s broad stature, smiles at him. „We‘re going west.“ he whispers.

 

„Yeah. That‘s good, I guess.“ Mike agrees. „I don‘t think we could get Hopper to go back east. Not this year.“

 

Hopper goes on „So he‘s out of state and the police can‘t do shit.“

 

„Exactly.“ Hargrove grunts. „Sheriff Callahan‘s a fuckin‘ milksop anyways, and my son...“ he demonstratively shove‘s at Billy‘s shoulder „...is a useless bum. And I‘m needed here.“

 

„Well, I‘m not needed anywhere.“ Hopper shrugs. „Not anymore. I‘m going after him. He‘s not gonna live to see the new year.“

 

„Oh yeah?“ For the first time, Hargrove shows something like a smile, though not a comforting one. „Pump a few bullets in him from me, will ya.“

 

* * *

 

Neil Hargrove isn‘t a man of many words, as it seems. At least not many that don‘t include accusations and insults towards Jonathan, who he really wants to see dead as it seems. He isn‘t a good host either, much to Will‘s relief. He offers them to fill up on water at the well, which they gladly do. After Hopper shoves Will around a little more, he even gives them a small pack of tobacco, acting a bit as if he has just found a soulmate in the gruff man.

 

But he doesn‘t offer them food, or a place to sleep. Neither of them would have accepted anyways. Will would rather die than spend a night at _that_ house. It‘s just noon when they leave the farm, and the next town over isn‘t too far. There, they‘re going to find a less than ideal place to set up a fire, crack open a can of beans, and stay the night. They have done that more than once, and Will isn‘t even too worried about Mike‘s condition anymore. He‘s so full of energy now.

 

It takes ten minutes to reach the highway again. By now, the view of the farm is once again obstructed by the oak trees. Hopper stops them there. He just looks down at Will for a little while. „You okay, kid?“ The man didn‘t talk at akk these last few minutes, but his voice reveals, he must be seething.

 

„I‘m good. Why?“

 

„I just thought... you got what kind of man that is.“

 

„Yeah. I did.“

 

„So you got why I...“ He briefly, and more roughly than necessary, hugs Will. Nothing he usually does, and while Will understands why he did what he did, he is grateful for the apology. „If I was a bit dumber than I am, I‘d stick around and kill him tonight.“ Will smiles at Hopper‘s hatred for Hargrove. He‘s feeling it too.

 

„Thank god you‘re not dumb.“ Mike cuts in.

 

„Thank god.“ Hopper agrees. „That would make things difficult. I‘m just saying, Hargrove‘s a piece of shit. Like the doc said. Can‘t take anything he says seriously, if you ask me.“

 

„So you don‘t think Jonathan did it?“

 

„Either that, or he had a damn good reason. Maybe he thought he could end this bastard.“

 

„Hm...“ Will muses. „Could be. Did you see his son, though?“

 

Mike shudders a bit next to him. „Looked like he was about to murder his pa.“

 

Hopper looks back at the two ancient oak trees in the distance. „Maybe he will. Shit, I hope he does.“

 

* * *

 

They have settled down for the night, and the exhilarating feeling of at least having a trace hasn‘t worn off for Will. It‘s dark already, their breath would be clouding in front of their faces if they weren‘t enjoying Neil Hargrove‘s tobacco right now. Even Will, who has no idea what a good cigarette should taste like, thinks this is pretty good.

 

In the orange light of the campfire they have set up behind an abandoned gas station he gently traces the stitches in Mike‘s hand with one finger. „And you really don‘t feel anything?“ he gently asks.

 

„No.“ Mike exhales some gray smoke through his nostrils. „Could be worse.“

 

„Doc said it might stay that way.“

 

„Could be worse.“ Mike repeats. „Don‘t worry about me. I‘m alive, I got all my limbs. What more would I want?“ Grinning, he shows off the hole where one of his teeth is missing, and that he likes to occupy with his cigarettes. It‘s a sad grin, though. Apologetic.

 

„Let‘s not talk about it anymore, hm?“ Will offers. His arm drapes firmly around Mike‘s shoulders. It‘s better than the fire if it comes to staying warm. And if Hopper thinks it‘s weird how the two of them always stay so close to each other, he doesn‘t say it.

 

„Got it.“ the man speaks up after some rustling with paper. The map. „Highway 26. The first town it passes in Wyoming is Torrington. Your brother must‘ve been there. Maybe someone remembers. You still got that photo?“

 

„Hmm.“ Will hums. „Scavenger hunt, isn‘t it?“

 

„Yeah.“ Hopper agrees lightly. „I‘m fine with that, as long as we‘re going west. Smart kid, your brother.“

 

„Smarter than you think.“ This isn‘t Will speaking. It‘s not Mike either. All three of them jump at the sound of this entirely new voice.

 

Hopper, being a hardened, reflex-driven war veteran, has the revolver ready and pointed at the stranger in a second. They all quickly understand, though, the girl standing a few feet away from the fire doesn‘t pose any danger. Her red hair seems to shine brighter than the fire, despite her face being hidden by the darkness. This time, Maxine doesn‘t point a shotgun at them.

 

„You‘re that Hargrove girl.“ Hopper says. Pointing the gun at her seems to amuse him in some way. Revenge, maybe.

 

„Maxine, right?“ Mike asks her skeptically.

 

„Max.“ she presses through her gritted teeth. „I‘m Max.“

 

„Get over here. I wanna see your face when I‘m talking to you.“ Only when she obeys does Hopper lower the gun. Max looks terrible, her face bruised and dark red from Neil‘s treatment. „Good. And what are you doing here?“

 

„I got something for you.“ She doesn‘t beat around the bush. Max nonchalantly sits down right next to Will. „You‘re Will Byers?“

 

Will‘s breath catches in his throat. His heart leaps all but painfully. „I... you know me?“ he gasps.

 

„Obviously not.“ Max says. „I know _about_ you. What, you think your brother lives with us for the better part of a year and doesn‘t mention you?“

 

Will doesn‘t miss how Mike squeezes him a little tighter. „So he talked about me?“

 

„To me, anyways. And to my mom. To Neil or Billy... I don‘t think so. They wouldn‘t have listened anyways.“

 

„Okay... but why are you here?“ Will asks. He notices Hopper listening intently, even if he doesn‘t say a word. His expression is as curious as it can be.

 

„We‘re- we‘re friends. I think. So, I‘m gonna help you find him.“ The bitter determination in Max‘s voice does something to Will. He can‘t help the sympathy that‘s starting to flood him from head to toe.

 

„So that...“ Hopper points at the giant backpack she brought. „...means you wanna come with?“

 

Max nods.

 

„And your folks aren‘t gonna come after you? If they do, we gotta get out of here tonight.“

 

„Hey, wait a second.“ Mike interrupts him. „You really wanna let her join us? A girl? Look at her, she can‘t handle herself.“ Will likes the glimpse of old, confident Mike that‘s shining through.

 

Max huffs, but doesn‘t react otherwise. „Kid, if she wants to get away from that father of her‘s, I can‘t stop her. I guess she‘s not gonna go back there, even if I turn her down. Right?“

 

„He‘s my _stepfather_.“ Max says pointedly. „And I can take care of myself. I don‘t think they‘re gonna come looking for me. My ma knows I‘m gone, Neil and Billy won‘t care too much.“

 

„What‘s that supposed to mean, _your ma knows_?“

 

„Well, obviously, she knows. And she doesn‘t expect me to come back. Here. Look at this. My ma got it in June. And you‘re damn lucky Neil was out in the fields when it came in the mail.“ Max produces a crumpled piece of paper, handing it to Will. „Me and ma, we both know Jonathan didn‘t do it. Read.“

 

Will gets it immediately at the sight of the familiar handwriting on the paper. Tearing up doesn‘t help with reading, but he does his best to read out loud, his voice breaking from time to time.

 

* * *

 

_Mrs Hargrove,_

 

_I hope this letter reaches you in good health. Let me apologize first. I know I‘m putting you at risk by writing, but you and Max are the only ones I think I can still trust. I know you will believe me when I tell you, it wasn‘t my fault. Not the barn. As for the car, I‘m sorry. For what it‘s worth, I hope your husband got it back._

 

_I just have to let you know where I am. We talked about my brother more than once, and I‘m still hoping to go to Indiana and get him out of our father‘s house, but as long as I have to live on a few cents a week, he is better off there._

 

_It‘s been two years since I‘ve last heard from him, so there‘s a chance he has already left and is now looking for me. So, if he ever comes by your house, would you please give him this letter? I know, I‘m asking a lot of you. You‘ll have to hide it somewhere in the house, and I can only apologize for the danger I‘m putting you in._

 

_Jonathan Byers_

 

 

_Will,_

 

_If you‘ve made it this far, I‘m sorry I‘m not there anymore. It‘s only partly my fault, if that helps. Right now I‘m in California, but I haven‘t found a steady job, so that might change. But wherever I go, you have to find Bob Newby. He owns the only radio store in a town called Ramona, near San Diego. He couldn‘t offer me a job, but promised to keep any letters I send him safe for you. He is going to know where I am, no matter how long it takes me to find a job. I think I‘m not going to leave the west coast if possible._

 

_There‘s so much more I want to tell you. I‘m sorry I didn‘t fight pa. I‘m sorry I could never reach you with my letters, and that I didn‘t come to pick you up yet. Try not to travel alone. Sleep with one eye open. Get a gun, if you can. I know you‘re a good shot. If the road seems too dangerous, wait. Or take a detour. What‘s a few weeks delay if it saves your life, right?_

 

_I miss you. And I love you._

 

_Jonathan_

 

* * *

 

Will doesn‘t read the last lines out loud. He couldn‘t even if he wanted to. The letter drops to the hard, frozen ground. Will suddenly clings on to Mike for dear life, while Max shifts around a bit uncomfortably. He can‘t see through his tears anymore. He can‘t understand whatever Mike is whispering into his ear, though his gentle voice is soothing.

 

„He‘s still thinking about me.“ After that, he doesn‘t get any more words out that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max to the rescue, right? Honestly, I couldn't wait to get her into the story.  
> btw, Max shooting at them is definitely inspired by 'O Brother, Where Art Thou?' (the movie, which I can only recommend)
> 
> Also, Hopper is a good person.
> 
> Also, Jonathan is a damn good brother.
> 
> Also, romantic Byler is just around the bend.


	8. Mine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here we go. We're seeing a bit of slow burn here, I think.

„So, you know about me. I know about you-“

 

„Through Jonathan?“

 

„Yeah. We‘re on the same page. That leaves Wheeler.“ Max turns from Will to Mike, who is staring at the road ahead stoically, not minding her. It‘s obvious to Will, and perhaps even more obvious to Max, that he doesn‘t want her here. It‘s been just a night and two hours on their feet so far, but Mike has yet to say anything more than ‚Yes‘ or ‚No‘ to her.

 

The last minutes, with Max and Will comparing backstories, especially about Will‘s father and Max‘s stepfather, he has just been listening. Probably listening, Will can‘t be sure of that. Mike could have just shut his ears to the conversation about where cigar burns hurt the most; Forearms, upper arms, palms...

 

„Come on.“ Max prods. „Either you tell me, or Byers does anyways. What‘s your story?“

 

Now, Will knows Mike isn‘t too talkative about his family. He only ever mentioned it once to Will, on their first night together at the warehouse back in Indianapolis. And Max is wrong. Will wouldn‘t tell her anything behind Mike‘s back.

 

It‘s a pleasant surprise when Mike actually starts talking, though. It takes some pressure off of Will. „Not much to it. Pa was a pilot. Died in the war. And then ma lost her mind.“

 

That‘s about as much as Will knows, and he never asked for more. Max, however, is a different character. „Lost her mind? As in straightjacket? Lobotomy, electric shocks, all that stuff?“

 

Mike breathes out shakily. Will wants to tell her to stop. But he also wants to know more. Mike speaks voluntarily. „N-no. Not like that. I mean, it... it took a while.“ He looks at Will, not at Max, with expressionless eyes. „The first few months after we got the telegram, she just... cried, y‘know. I mean, I did too, but she never got out of it. Then, the next year, she got scared. For me, at first. Wouldn‘t let me go outside. Took me out of school for good. She just looked out the window and saw... cars that could run me over... Nazi agents sent to kill us. I couldn‘t do anything. And then it got really bad.“ He gulps.

 

Will does too. Max looks mildly freaked out by this. After these last few words, Mike remains silent for a long, uncomfortable time. It doesn‘t look like Hopper has heard anything so far, seeing as he is walking ten or more feet ahead of them.

 

„Bad...“ Will repeats warily, his curiosity getting the best of him.

 

„Yeah. I think... it was just too much for her. After pa. And my sister.“

 

Will trips over his own feet hearing that. „Your sister?“

 

Now, Mike smiles apologetically, shrugging. „Never knew her. Died a year before I was even born. All I‘m saying is, it was just too much for ma. Two years back she started talking about how all our food is poisoned and we can‘t eat ever again. I had to go then.“

 

„A-and...“ Will stutters, trying to process the information. „And she‘s... d-dead?“

 

„Don‘t know.“ Mike mutters. „When I left she was barely alive.“

 

„You‘re telling me that.“ Max says carefully. „But you didn‘t tell Byers?“

 

„I‘m not telling you anything.“ Mike suddenly spits with more venom in his voice than Will has ever heard from him. But he looks like he doesn‘t even know what those words even mean. Will sure as hell doesn‘t know. He shifts his gaze to Max, whom he likes and can relate to. Then back to Mike, whom he... also likes.

 

„Hey, Mike?“

 

„Yeah?“ Mike grumbles.

 

„What‘s that with you and Max?“

 

„I‘d like to know that too.“ Max chimes in. „What‘s with you and me, Wheeler? Got a problem?“

 

Mike laughs. It scares Will a bit, but he stays close regardless. „Problem. Yeah, I got a problem. We don‘t need you. You‘re gonna slow us down with your bleeding butthole.“

 

„My what?“

 

Her what? Why would Max be bleeding from her butthole? The idea has Will worried. Surely, that can‘t be healthy. He has never heard of anything like it, but considering how dirty is is down there... Open wounds must be kept clean, that‘s one of the many things Will knows.

 

„Don‘t-“ Mike stops himself for a short moment. „Don‘t act all ignorant. That‘s all girls are good for. Cooking, and bleeding from their asses. I bet it‘s gonna start soon, and then you‘re gonna cry because your ass hurts, and you‘re gonna have to stop to take a leak every two minutes. Can‘t trust anyone with a bleeding butthole, I‘m telling you, Will.“

 

Max looks as if punched in the face. Well, she actually was punched in the face by her stepfather just yesterday and that‘s still showing, but her wide eyes, her crooked, disbelieving lips, all that gives away that she is absolutely stunned. „Okay. Okay.“ she sneers eventually. „Sounds about right. I think I‘m just gonna take all the nasty blood from my butthole and smear it all over your face when you‘re asleep, that‘ll show you.“

 

Mike growls, frustrated. „See? Just stay away from her, Will. That‘s gonna save us some trouble.“

 

But Will can‘t shed the extremely rare feeling that Mike might be making a mistake. Or that Mike could be just making stuff up because he doesn‘t like Max. Either way, Will has never heard of girls bleeding out of their asses, and he can‘t imagine it to be true. It‘s nothing short of ridiculous.

 

* * *

 

The next few days give Will some more insight, mercifully. They‘re on their way to Denver, Colorado, to catch another freight train to California from there. That‘s a comforting prospect, because it‘s going to help them avoid the Rocky Mountains and the Nevada desert. Both aren‘t exactly environments they want to endure for too long.

 

As for Mike and Max, Will feels torn whenever he is around them, which is all the time. 24 hours a day, whether they‘re walking by the side of the road, riding along in the bed of a pickup truck for a few miles, sitting around the fire, or sleeping.

 

Will wants to consider Max his friend. Partly because that would mean he has one more friend, three in total if he counts Hopper, and partly because they are alike in many ways. They both know what it‘s like living with their respective version of the same, disgusting person; The more he learns about Neil Hargrove, the more similarities he notices to Lonnie Byers.

 

What Mike doesn‘t seem to understand though, is that he will always be Will‘s best friend. And that ignorance leads to uncomfortable situations.

 

One night, after yet another warmed up can of beans, Will lies down contently. They just crossed the border to Colorado that day, and, for the first time in a long time, found a small patch of trees that provides shelter from the elements. Will feels safe. And he talks to Max, of course, who is lying a few feet away from him. Until Mike comes back, that is. He ends the conversation by lying down right between Will and Max, effectively shielding the two from each other, and wrapping is arms around Will, like he always does at night. With a gruff announcement „We have to sleep. It‘s getting late.“, he forbids them any more words.

 

Then, another night, Mike finally shows Will how to sew those handy pockets into his cap, so he can store his own money and cigarettes in secret. Will thinks he‘s doing a pretty good job, even if he stings his fingers with the needle more than once. At least, he ends up with enough hidden storage space for a week‘s supply of cigarettes. He is pretty damn proud of it, until Max comes by, reaching for the cap. „You guys got no idea how to sew. Here, I‘m gonna-“ But she doesn‘t get to finish.

 

The second her hand brushes over Will‘s, an animalistic expression crosses Mike‘s face, and he shoves her back, making her shriek and stumble. „Fine.“ she just huffs. „If you want these to come undone in less than a week...“ Mike doesn‘t react. He sits back down glaring at her, grips at Will‘s shoulder as if to say _‚Mine!‘_ , and then asks Hopper how long dinner is going to take. The possessive touch on his shoulder sends a weird, bubbly sensation from his stomach to his outermost limbs. Will smiles, despite feeling bad for Max.

 

Hopper doesn‘t really bother with whatever Mike is doing as long as no one gets hurt. He isn‘t their father, and he doesn‘t try to act as one. That‘s not to say he doesn‘t care for the three of them. It‘s just Hopper‘s general opinion that they can handle themselves for the most part.

 

Sometimes, rarely, Will also contemplates his friendship with Mike. It‘s as weird as it could be, he reckons. Long gone are the days when Mike would smack him around. He can‘t remember when the taller boy last beat him up. Must have been September, when Will dropped a full box of matches in a puddle. Will didn‘t even know they were friends back then.

 

Now he knows, and thinking about it always causes him exactly this warm, bubbly feeling.

 

* * *

 

„You know, you don‘t have to be mean to Max _all_ the time.“ Will muses. „She‘s not so bad.“

 

„He‘s right, kid.“ Hopper agrees. He cranes his neck to see if she is anywhere near, but it doesn‘t look like it. Max always likes to stray a bit further away from the fire than the other three to follow the call of nature. „She‘s with us now, if you like it or not. Might as well give peace a chance.“

 

„Besides...“ Will goes on. „...she‘s friends with Jonathan. That says a lot. Hold still, okay?“ With increasing nervousness, he stares at Mike‘s hand that is lying on his knee, palm up. „I don‘t wanna hurt you.“

 

„You can‘t hurt me.“ Mike chuckles. „It‘s gonna be numb for the rest of my life. I‘m invincible.“

 

Will has to laugh. He keeps the scissors at a safe distance from the stitches, until he has steadied himself. „And you‘re sure you don‘t want Hop to do this?“ he asks.

 

„Nah. I trust you.“ Mike says lightly.

 

„Okay. Here goes nothing, I guess.“ Will sighs. With a steady hand, he lowers the scissors. The first two stitches already came out on their own, with the threads having deteriorated over time. The rest of them, eight in total, have yet to be cut open. It was Hopper who proposed Will should do it. It‘s something you should just know how to do, according to him.

 

So, Will does it. Careful not to cut Mike, even if it wouldn‘t hurt him, he pulls out one thread after the other. The scar is still slightly swollen. Will has made it a custom to trace it with his fingertips for a few minutes each night. Just to keep track of how it‘s healing. Yes, that is definitely the only reason he does that.

 

„So?“

 

„So what?“ Mike asks, looking puzzled.

 

Will only meets his eyes for a moment before turning back to the stitches. „So, are you gonna give her a chance?“

 

„Whatever.“ Mike grunts. „I could just stop talking to her.“

 

„Not gonna do.“ Hopper disagrees. „I‘m not here to settle your arguments, but this is starting to get on my nerves. And you can‘t ignore each other. Out here you need every friend you can get.“

 

Mike then looks at Will again. „I don‘t need any more friends.“

 

„Bullshit.“ Will snorts.

 

„Hey! Language! Gonna wash your mouth with soap, boy.“ Hopper complains half-heartedly. He really doesn‘t care for any of them swearing. It‘s more of an ironic way to say _‚Hey, I‘m not your pa.‘,_ because he never acts on his threats. „But you‘re right. Bullshit. You need friends, Wheeler. The more, the better.“

 

About that time, Will is done with the stitches. „How does it feel?“

 

„Again...“ Mike sighs. „...it‘s numb.“

 

Will casts Hopper a gaze. Then Mike. „Okay. Think you can walk?“ he teases.

 

„No, the scar on my hand makes that impossible. You‘re gonna have to carry me.“ Mike snaps back.

 

This has Will laughing when he drags Mike away from the fire, until the dim glow disappears behind a few, thick trees. It‘s so dark, he can barely see a thing, but some things just aren‘t for Hopper‘s ears. What‘s next would probably just embarrass Mike if the man would hear it.

 

„Will? What‘s this about? Need help taking a leak, or what?“

 

This time, Will keeps himself from laughing, and from coming up with an equally sarcastic answer. „I don‘t like her better than you.“

 

„Uhm...“ Mike coughs uncomfortably. „I... never thought...“

 

„It‘s okay.“ Will cuts in. „If you don‘t wanna admit it, I mean. She‘s my friend. You‘re my best friend.“

 

Will doesn‘t know if it‘s these few words that make things better. But it definitely gets better after that. Mike can even muster a small apology, even if the words are more mumbled than anything, with only ‚sorry‘ and ‚friends‘ really audible. That makes all the difference, though. At least, Mike refrains from open hostility now. The day before they reach Denver, he even confesses he trusts her ability to fend for herself.

 

It might be wrapped up in something like an insult when he tells her „You‘ve earned my trust.“, but the meaning is clear. Coming from someone as proud and stubborn as Mike, it means a lot. They‘re a group of four now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Face it. Mike and Will are 12 and the year is 1948. What can they possibly know about periods?
> 
> Also, we can be pretty sure things aren't 100% fine between Max and Mike. But hey, they're trying. 
> 
> Now, I hope you guys are ready for more familiar characters?


	9. Heaven's Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least they're making progress. This chapter is still calm, but the next one... well it's gonna be fun to write, I think.

It‘s cold. Holy shit, it is cold. Just a few days back Will thought the Nebraska plains and creeping wind were torture, especially at night with nothing to shield the little group from the elements. Now, in Colorado, he knows he was wrong. It‘s not even December yet, but Denver is already covered in a thin white layer of snow. The freezing air sneaks under his clothes from all directions.

 

Never has Will been more grateful for the sleeping bags and blankets. A man died when they stole these, so he and Mike still sometimes think of them as dirty, paid for with a stranger‘s blood, but that doesn‘t keep them from using them. It‘s either that, or freezing to death. During the day they now fold a blanket each and drape it around their shoulders for an additional layer. Aside from that, Will is usually wearing at least two shirts under his holey jacket.

 

Lucky for them all, neither of them is planning to stay in Denver for long. Hopper has it all figured out. Will often marvels at the man‘s experience, and the ease with which he determines the routes they‘re going to take.

 

„Is this it?“ Mike whispers into the darkness between them. „Or that one?“

 

„Wait a second.“ Hopper mumbles. It appears as though he is counting the train tracks in the station. „Must be that one.“ He points at the train Mike considered first.

 

„At least we don‘t have to climb a fence this time.“ Will says.

 

Max snorts with barely suppressed laughter. „I wouldn‘t mind that. Not everyone‘s as clumsy as Wheeler.“

 

The pained noise Mike produces only confirms Will‘s assumption. He really regrets having told Max about his scar. It‘s not Will‘s fault, though. He told his friend in the beginning he could lie about it. Make up some story about how he fought off a robber or a wild animal.

 

„Quiet now.“ Hopper orders. „Spread. Look for a wagon with enough space for all of us. And don‘t get caught.“

 

Not getting caught is easy enough. Will can‘t see or hear personnel anywhere near. He also quickly learns, the important freight cars are all locked. These ones are most likely full anyways. The only problem is, he doesn‘t find one that is unlocked at all. A bit further down the tracks, Max eventually whisper-shouts „I got one! Over here! It‘s empty!“

 

They all scramble to her as fast as they can without making too much noise in the gravel under the tracks. She‘s right. An empty freight car, all dark wooden floor and walls. Will‘s relief is immeasurable, because finally, _finally_ , he is once again surrounded by at least some safety and shelter from the temperatures. Without the November wind, and with a blanket wrapped all around him, it‘s actually bearable.

 

„How long is it gonna take?“ he asks Hopper.

 

„About 12 hours to Albuquerque. We‘ll have to switch trains there. Albuquerque to San Diego should take no longer than 24 hours.“

 

„Really saves us some time, huh.“

 

„ _Some_ time?“ Hopper chuckles. „You bet, kid. Walking from here to California, that‘d be two months.“

 

„Two months either freezing or in the desert.“ Max adds. „We came through Nevada and Utah when we-“

 

She stops herself there, but naturally, Mike picks up on her words. „When you _what?_ “

 

Max bites her lip, and Will really wants to tell Mike to just let it rest. But since she cut herself off, it could be important. „When we moved to Nebraska.“ she sighs. „I‘m... I‘m from California. My pa, I mean, my real father lives there. In San Diego.“

 

Mike audibly grits his teeth. Will knew the peace wouldn‘t last too long, but right here, right now, they don‘t need an argument. Mike is about to start one, though. „So that‘s what you‘re about, huh?“ he snarls. „Thought you could use us to go back to your pa?“

 

„N-no, I-“

 

„Thought you could cost us a bunch of money, eat our food? This wasn‘t about Will‘s brother. Never! Right?“

 

„Kid, cool it.“ Hopper warns, stepping between them. It‘s been a while since Will has seen him showing such a threatening demeanor. „You‘re too damn loud. If we get caught, I swear I‘m gonna beat the shit out of you before the cops get a hand on me.“ It‘s probably an empty threat, though. Aside from the occasional correctional smack, Hopper has only once laid a hand on Mike. And he apologized afterwards.

 

„Hop, she used us!“ Mike, while still seething and fuming, tries to keep it down now.

 

Will, meanwhile, inches closer to Max. He feels he has to take her side in this. Mike _is_ his best friend, there‘s no doubt about it, but that doesn‘t mean Will is going to ignore a mistake if he makes one. And turning against Max is a mistake.

 

„Mike.“ he whispers. „I‘m here to find my brother. If she‘s here to find her pa... then what‘s the difference between us?“

 

„It‘s...“ Mike stammers, and Will could swear he‘s turning red with anger. „It‘s... you... you‘re my... I...“

 

„Wheeler, cut it!“ Max bursts out. „Just so you know, I was gonna come with you all the way. I wanna see pa. But I can wait until we‘ve found Jonathan. Pa‘s not gonna run away.“

 

„See?“ Hopper hisses at Mike. „They‘ve just given you two good reasons why you should let it rest. Enough for you?“

 

Mike grumbles something to himself. He looks at Max, though. _Really_ looks at her. And like that his shoulders relax again. He slumps into himself a bit, and Hopper finally recedes to a corner of the wagon to sit down. Will is grateful he stepped in this time. Maybe, just maybe this finally settled it between the two.

 

It seems that way when they finally settle down for the night. This is long overdue, since they have all been on their feet for close to 24 hours. The crack of dawn already begins showing when the telltale hammering sound of a steam locomotive rumbles into life. It takes maybe another ten minutes before a jolt ripples through the train and it starts moving.

 

It‘s uncomfortable in here. The last time they did this they had at least a few bags of corn to lie on. It‘s just creaky wood here, though, and while Will has Mike to lean on, and Hopper doesn‘t seem to mind anything or anyone anymore, he can see Max shifting around in her corner uneasily. Her sleeping bag doesn‘t quite provide enough padding.

 

„Mike.“ Will pleads, when he can‘t stand it anymore.

 

„What?“ Mike grunts back.

 

„You know what.“ And Mike probably also knows what Will is about to do.

 

„Fine. Fine.“ Mike sighs. „Max. Get over here.“ Warily, she does. „Sit.“ he orders gruffly. And Will can‘t help giggling at his semi-uncomfortable face when he allows Max to lean on him from the other side. Will doesn‘t miss how Mike turns his head a bit to face him instead of Max, and yet again, something warm and sweet bubbles up in his stomach and throat. If he could only put his finger on it. If he could only explain to himself what it is that he feels in these moments with Mike.

 

* * *

 

Will wakes up to bright light. Not a lot of it, because the door to the freight car is still closed. It‘s filtered through cracks and gaps in the wood, so that it produces bright, orange and yellow spots on the floor, on the walls, and one particularly large one directly on Mike‘s face. Aside from Will, everyone is still asleep, and he himself feels languid, a bit lazy and detached from his own mind.

 

Although, he notices how the last weeks, the weeks spent on the road and out in the cold, are visible on his friend‘s face. They rarely wash anymore since that particularly cold day a week back, when the water formed a thin layer of ice on Will‘s cheeks, that was mildly painful to remove. He can‘t put it any other way. Mike is filthy. Dark spots of dirt sprinkle his cheeks and nose, his hair is fortunately hidden under his cap. It doesn‘t matter to Will. He comfortably snuggles into Mike, closes his eyes and-

 

jumps up to his wobbly legs. Something‘s wrong here. Something is terribly, terribly wrong. „Wake up!“ he shouts. „Wake up!“

 

Hopper is the first on his feet. He notices it too. „Why aren‘t we moving? We can‘t be there yet.“

 

In the corner Mike and Max and just beginning to rub the sleep from their eyes. „Maybe we slept the entire time.“ Max yawns, scratching the back of her neck.

 

„You mean 8 or more hours?“ Hopper contemplates that for a few seconds. „Could be. We went a long time without sleeping. But it‘s too cold. Too damn cold, don‘t you think?“

 

Will shivers. It really is cold. Colder than it should be in New Mexico. „Want to take a look outside?“

 

„Gonna have to, don‘t you think?“ Hopper goes on to slide the door open. It rattles, squeaks a little, and at some point even gets stuck from all the rust the metal parts are overgrown with. Will looks outside. Max, Mike and Hopper do too. What he sees knocks the remaining wind out of him in an instant.

 

No, this isn‘t Albuquerque. It‘s not any other city or town either. It‘s all trees. Pine trees for the most part, green and fresh even with winter approaching relentlessly. They block off the wind, making the air still, but icy and lingering. It‘s quiet too. Will can‘t hear people, cars, any signs of civilization. They‘re in the woods, on an unmoving train, surrounded by nothing but trees that are only cleared where necessary for the train tracks.

 

„Okay.“ Hopper sighs. No sign of astonishment or fear crosses his face. „Pack up. We‘re gonna have to investigate.“ Without another word he jumps out of the wagon, down to the gravel. Will follows only after making sure Mike has landed safely. Max is last.

 

„You okay?“ Mike whispers to Will.

 

„Yeah. A bit scared.“ Will admits. „Don‘t want any more mysteries or delays.“

 

„Same here. But we can‘t just push the train.“

 

The all but run after Hopper, who is confidently stepping towards the locomotive that is hidden behind a bend. It‘s a long train, so it takes a few minutes of uncertainty before they reach it. But to Will‘s massive disappointment they don‘t find anything at all. Not on first glance, at least. The locomotive is empty.

 

„What happened?“ Max mumbles. „Did they just leave the train here?“

 

„Obviously. Shit, it really looks like we‘re just unlucky.“ Hopper lightly kicks at the large train wheel. „Look at this.“ He points at the elongated contraption behind the locomotive.

 

„That‘s the tender.“ Mike shrugs. „What‘s wrong with it?“

 

„Smart boy. You know what it‘s for?“

 

„Store water and coal?“

 

„And how would you call this?“ Hopper lets his finger glide along the side of the tender near the bottom of it. Will sees it too, but only after the man has pointed it out like that. The crack in it is so thin, it‘s almost laughable. But it‘s also long. „Something sliced it open. A branch or something. The crew didn‘t notice until all the water was gone. Was too late to do anything about it, so now they‘re gone, looking for help.“

 

„Shit.“ Mike utters.

 

„Shit.“ Will repeats, nodding. „And we didn‘t even notice?“

 

„We were out good.“ Hopper groans, maybe ashamed of himself. He usually is such a light sleeper. „But we couldn‘t have done anything either. Just lost some time. What do you think, Wheeler? What time is it?“

 

„The sun‘s still up.“ Mike answers, frowning. Early afternoon. 2:30, 3, maybe.“

 

„Couldn‘t have guessed better.“ Hopper roughly pats his back. „Let‘s get going then. Waiting won‘t do us any good. Getting that thing out of here is gonna take them a day or more.“

 

Will sighs, looking at Mike and Max, who both seem close to devastated. He feels it too. Their hopes of not having to walk until California are now crushed. Gone. They make way for the knowledge that they‘re in some Rocky-Mountain offshoot with nothing to get them forwards but their sore feet.

 

Complaining won‘t help. Will follows.

 

* * *

 

Just when he thought it couldn‘t get any worse... It‘s starting to get dark. The sun sets early this time of year, and all too soon they find themselves engulfed with blue-ish twilight that drains all color from the world around them. Will is freezing. The blanket around his shoulders has lost any appeal. All he can do is think _‚One foot after the other. One foot after the other.‘_ over and over again.

 

Somewhere in the distance an owl cries. It‘s an eerie sound to hear. Almost like a human imitating an owl, actually. How far away can the next town be? There must be plenty of places along the train tracks. And why are these tracks so deserted? It‘s obvious that they can‘t expect another train to approach from behind. That‘s where the tracks are blocked. But they haven‘t seen one going the other direction either.

 

It‘s an hour, one gruesome hour after this thought first arises, that Will sees it. By now, Hopper is the only one of their little group who can still walk without groaning at every step. Will knows they‘ll have to set up their camp soon. And then there‘s light. It‘s far away, just a small bright spot between the trees, but it looks warm and inviting. He leaps a few feet forwards to tug at the hem of Hopper‘s jacket.

 

„What is it?“ the man asks quietly.

 

„Look!“ Will points at the light. The rest of them all see it at the same time. „Light!“

 

„It‘s a fire!“ Mike gasps.

 

„No. It‘s not.“ Max disagrees. „At least not burning wood. Maybe gaslight.“

 

„Whatever it is, there‘s people over there.“ Hopper grumbles. „And I‘m not sure if I want- Wheeler!“

 

But Mike doesn‘t listen. He is admittedly careful not to make a sound, but already on his way towards the light. It doesn‘t look like he‘s going to turn back, so he leaves them no choice but follow him. They part from the train tracks, which in itself isn‘t a good idea when it‘s dark, and carefully sneak across the frozen ground, avoiding branches and twigs as far as they can.

 

Will knows, if they don‘t find help there they might be out of luck for a long time. Without the tracks, the thread that connects them with civilization, they have nothing for orientation. They have to climb uphill from time to time; the light is further away than Will originally thought. More than once he slips, only to be caught by Mike. Max doesn‘t make as many mistakes.

 

In the end, they find something they couldn‘t have possibly expected. A house! A goddamn house in the middle of the woods! Orange light is shining from the windows. The whole thing looks like it‘s from another century, small, all made of dark wooden logs. Glass windows, like the one that‘s letting through the comfortable glow, must have been pure luxury back when this house was built.

 

When this _settlement_ was built, Will realizes. They obviously approached from the back. Sneaking around the house they find more of the same kind. All in all maybe a dozen wooden houses. And a small chapel that used to be white judging from the flaking and peeling paint. What runs through the middle of this village is not exactly a road, more like a trail. In the summer it might be overgrown with grass.

 

„Excuse me?“ A voice suddenly appears behind them. Hopper jerks around quicker than the others, but in the end they all face the man speaking. He is relatively small, relatively plump, and all clad in white. A perfectly clean white shirt, tugged neatly into white pants. It bulges around his stomach. Even his hat is pearly white. Just his shoes are dark.

 

The woman and the girl behind him are also clad in white. It‘s such an eerie sight, almost as if it‘s something like a family tradition. Will just assumes they are the man‘s family.

 

Hopper needs some time to catch his breath. The man remains still, smiling kindly. „Yeah. Uh... no. Excuse _me_. We didn‘t mean to intrude.“

 

„Intrude?“ the man laughs. „No! My dear brother, there are no intruders in Heaven‘s Hill!“

 

„Heaven‘s Hill?“

 

„Yes. Our beautiful little refuge. I‘m Brother Charles.“ he steps forwards to shake Hopper‘s hand, who takes his only reluctantly.

 

Will whispers to Mike „Brother Charles?“

 

„Whose brother?“ Mike whispers back, nodding.

 

Brother Charles must have heard them. He just goes on laughing. „Everyone‘s brother! We‘re all God‘s children here! This...“ he gently pulls the woman, who is holding the little girl of maybe three years, over to him „...is my wife, Adelaide. And our daughter, Emily.“

 

„Ma‘am.“ Hopper tips his hat. „We don‘t mean any trouble. We were just-“

 

„Lost in the woods.“ Brother Charles completes, still smiling. „A rare occurrence around here. We are far from any road, living a happy, secluded life. That‘s what we all chose.“

 

„You all?“ Hopper questions. „Sorry. How many people live here?“

 

Another voice appears, yet again coming from behind them. „62, currently. You are welcome here, my children.“

 

Brother Charles takes off his hat, politely bowing to the other man who is just walking out of the first house that led them here in the first place. „Father! Good evening!“

 

„Good evening to you too, Brother Charles. A beautiful one for a little walk in the woods.“

 

„And for a prayer up at the spring, Father.“ Charles drapes his arm around his wife. "The Lord has given us refreshing air tonight.

 

The other man, the one Charles called ‚Father‘, is wearing all black. Like a pastor. He is tall, lean. The only thing white about him is his collar. And his hair. It‘s full, combed back on his head, and so, _so_ white. Almost unnaturally so. But it doesn‘t frighten Will. His smile is kind and welcoming.

 

Hopper tips his hat once again. „Jim Hopper.“ he introduces himself. „My son, William. My niece and nephew, Maxine and Michael.“

 

The pastor shows off his perfect teeth, grinning. „I‘m Father Martin.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who might this mysterious Father Martin be? As if we don't know. Hehe.


	10. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit. I wanted to update sooner. Don't know why I didn't, honestly. I like this chapter.

Fire is a comforting thing. Be it out in the wilderness, by the side of the road, behind an abandoned warehouse. In this room, the living room of Father Martin‘s house, it‘s not. It crackles in the same, soothing way from inside the bricked fireplace. It spends warmth. But not safety.

 

It‘s a crude home, to say the least. Creaking wooden floor with the dark earth visible between the cracks. Walls that drive splinters underneath your skin if you aren‘t careful. Three cracked up and stitched up armchairs around a small, low table.

 

One of them occupied by Father Martin, still in his black pastor‘s attire complete with collar and boots.

 

One occupied by Hopper, who looks just as uneasy as Will is feeling.

 

The last one cramped with three kids, because Hopper thankfully insisted on them all staying at the same house. Father Martin had offered to let Will, Mike and Max sleep with Brother Charles and his family initially. The Brother had obediently agreed to that, but there just was no way for the group to split up for the night. Not at a strange place, with strange people. _Strange_ in more than one sense.

 

Father Martin had shown them around this settlement called _Heaven‘s Hill_ before eventually retreating to the house. They had spent maybe twenty minutes walking in relative darkness, only lit up by the glow from the fireplaces in the dozen or so houses, or rather huts, to be honest.

 

The Father, obviously the leader of this secluded little community, had led them up the path between that connects the houses to the little chapel like a thread in the middle of the cold woods. He had shown them the ways the thirteen families that live here sustain themselves. A few pigs. A great many chickens. And quite a bit of faith, as it seems. The chapel, with Father Martin as pastor, is undoubtedly the community‘s center.

 

They had met a few more people. Enough to know that the Father holds all the power here. Enough to know that white clothing seems to be mandatory.

 

Neither of these facts makes Will uneasy, though. It‘s plainly the Father himself. His pale face with the orange glow from the fire dancing around his features, the perfectly white teeth and hair. The smile that seems kind at first glance, but never quite reaches his dark eyes. Will isn‘t the only one to see it. In their armchair all three kids have a blanket draped around them. Too keep warm. To hide how Mike‘s hand Will‘s fingers are entwined in an all but painful grasp.

 

The two men don‘t pay them any mind, though. Hopper fixes on the Father‘s face with exhausting concentration. To Will the two of them seem like actors on a stage, with everything but them swallowed by blackness.

 

„You see...“ Father Martin says in sugary-sweet tone „...the life we lead out here is simple. As simple as our devotion to our Lord and Savior requires.“

 

„Obviously.“ Hopper notes carefully. „Looks like you‘re happy here, though.“ Will admires him for not starting open hostility, though he knows neither of them is going to sleep a second that night. It would be better for them to leave at once.

 

„Happy to serve the Lord.“ the Father says. „Will you stay for tomorrow‘s first sermon?“

 

„Well...“ Hopper clears his throat. „We weren‘t planning on staying too long. We‘re not here to strain your hospitality.“

 

„Oh, but you aren‘t. No, Mr Hopper, as I said, you and your family are welcome here. In fact, you are welcome to stay, if you desire.“

 

 _Stay_ as in _forever_? Will gulps. He doesn‘t want that. Mike‘s grip on his hand tightens, while Max coughs uncomfortably. Hopper is quick to make it clear, that‘s not what‘s going to happen. „Sorry, Father. Not the life we‘re looking for. We‘re on a mission.“

 

„A mission?“ Father Martin raises an eyebrow, still smiling widely. „There is only one true mission, Mr Hopper; Collecting lost souls. Showing them the path. I‘m following that mission. You‘re not. That makes you a lost soul.“

 

Maybe this angers Hopper. It would anger Will for sure. Hopper starts smiling too, though. „I know where I‘m going, Father.“

 

„Your eyes would beg to differ. Where you‘re going in _this_ world is irrelevant.“ the pastor says darkly. „Tell me, Mr Hopper. Where were you on this day, thirty years ago?“

 

Hopper snorts in response. „In school, probably. I was a kid.“

 

While it‘s probably not the answer Father Martin has expected, his grin only widens. His voice quiets down with every word he speaks. „I‘m sorry. You look older than you are. Regardless, I remember exactly where I was. And who I was. A lost soul, stepping out of the trenches after what many believed to be Armageddon.“

 

Something like understanding steals on Hopper‘s face, but he doesn‘t answer. He shivers at the feasible tension in the air, though.

 

„Yes, I remember the blood. The shells. The nights we buried the dead in the foxholes and craters they died in. I remember how I thought God had left us. But it wasn‘t Armageddon. Armageddon can‘t repeat itself a mere twenty years later. Where were you on this day four years ago, Mr Hopper?“

 

Will can see Hopper‘s fingers digging into the armrests, paling. His muscles tense, he slowly answers. „Northern France. Must‘ve been a few weeks before Bastogne.“

 

Father Martin then laughs. It‘s cold, frightening, even threatening. „So you _are_ a lost soul. Just as lost as I was when I returned and found that nothing was making sense anymore. Nothing but the Lord‘s word. And the second time I went to Europe, it was because I had pledged to serve God.“

 

„So you‘re saying you volunteered?“

 

„No. I went to spread the Good Word. To help those who were like me before I had seen the light. I never picked up a rifle again.“

 

„So you were a military chaplain.“ Hopper concludes. _A mighty lengthy explanation for such a simple fact_. The words go unspoken, but it‘s exactly what Will thinks.

 

„I was. And I have seen so many men who were like you. So many who had lost God. Who didn‘t see the reason. The _reason,_ Mr Hopper.“ And again, Father Martin breaks out in eerie laughter.

 

„The reason?“ Hopper asks. „Yeah. I‘d like to know that too. Enlighten me.“

 

The pastor suddenly jumps to his feet, making the impression of nothing but a maniac. Max shrieks. Will and Mike keep it under control but they both flinch. Father Martin‘s voice raises to an imposing loudness for the first time.

 

„ _And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth! And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes. And his face was bound with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, loose him, and let him go!_ “

 

Hopper is up too by the time he has stopped quoting. „Is this necessary?“ he asks through gritted teeth. „You‘re scaring the kids!“

 

„It _is_ necessary!“ Father Martin goes on, still loud and even aggressive. „Who was Lazarus before Jesus Christ performed his miracle? _No one!_ He was no one! The act of resurrection turned a sick commoner into a walking miracle! Everything that wants to be great has to die first, Mr Hopper! That is the reason! The reason for war, and death, for the trenches, for the camps! What rises from the ashes is-“

 

A creaking sound cuts his rambling off. Both Father Martin and Hopper are panting. Hopper‘s hand has found its way close to his side where he keeps the revolver hidden. From their totally reclined position in the armchair, Max, Will and Mike notice the cause of the sound first.

 

It‘s a boy. A young boy, maybe their age, standing silently in the doorframe. Where did he come from? Will has seen all three rooms this one-story home possesses, and while it was dark, it wasn‘t dark enough for anyone to hide anywhere. But they would have heard the front door, if the boy had come in from there.

 

The two men see him two. At second glance, the boy looks unlike anyone Will has seen in this settlement so far. His head appears to be shaved. It‘s only covered in relentlessly short, dark hair. While he is clad in white like everyone else, he looks like he could go straight to his own baptism, if his long gown wasn‘t so dirty. If the boy himself wasn‘t so dirty. Dirty, bruised, with dried blood covering parts of his face.

 

Will‘s head snaps around again when something clicks. Hopper is pointing the revolver directly at Father Martin‘s face. „Explain.“ he growls. With his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, Will waits for the other man to answer.

 

It takes a while, before he eventually says, his voice nothing but a whisper „Sister Theresa left us with her wayward child. I shall take care of it.“ He makes an attempt at getting over to the boy, but Hopper stops him by stomping down on the wooden floor.

 

„I don‘t think so. Kids, get up. We‘re packing our stuff. And we‘re taking that one too.“ He points at the boy, who remains silent and emotionless.

 

„Mike.“ Will whispers, but his friend doesn‘t react at first. „Mike! Let‘s get out of here!“

 

„Mike!“ Max‘s shrill voice finally snaps him out of his paralysis.

 

„Yeah. Yeah, right.“ he says, not letting Father Martin out of his sight as he starts collecting his stuff from the corner of the room.

 

„Kid. Are you hurt?“ Hopper asks. The boy doesn‘t react. Maybe he doesn‘t even know Hopper is talking to him. His arm with the revolver still extended, Hopper takes a few steps towards him. „Kid?“ he asks again. „You okay?“

 

„Okay.“ the boy repeats in an impossibly small, frightened voice.

 

Father Martin doesn‘t show any signs of fear, or really any emotion at all. He has stopped his grinning for once, and now his face is nothing but stone-cold. A few steps further towards the door Hopper stalls. Probing, he stomps down on the wooden boards there. The sound his boot produces is hollow. It echoes somewhere under the living room.

 

„Girl! Get over here.“ he orders. Max complies. „Take the gun, don‘t let that bastard out of your sight. If he moves, you end him, understood?“

 

„Understood.“ Max says firmly. She takes the revolver from Hopper, expertly pointing it at the pastor. Max isn‘t a stranger to guns, and while Will is a good shot himself, he doesn‘t question Hopper‘s decision.

 

„Byers!“

 

„Yeah?“

 

„You still got that slingshot of yours? And ammunition?“

 

From his olive seabag Will produces said slingshot and a small bag with rocks he collected to have ammo handy. That was good thinking. He knows what to do; Get the thing ready to shoot. It won‘t injure the man like the gun would, but might be good as a failsafe to knock him out.

 

„W-where are you going?“ Mike asks in an unsteady tone. He is left with nothing to do but watch Hopper leave the room.

 

„There‘s something down there.“ Hopper replies. „I bet he‘s got a trapdoor somewhere.“ Mike looks like he wants to protest, but the chance to do so is gone once Hopper is gone. Since there are only two more rooms to check, his voice comes back to them in a matter of seconds. „Found it! I‘m going down!“

 

After that, the silence is deafening. At least a minute nothing happens. It‘s an unbearably long time of Max pointing the gun, Will holding the slingshot, Mike and Father Martin both staring. Will can‘t help but look at the strange boy from time to time. It‘s stupid to let the man out of his sight, but the completely silent, dirty kid is fascinating in a way. Did the pastor really keep him in some hole underneath his house?

 

He must be a complete and utter maniac. God knows what he was going to do to that kid. Or what he already did. How long he held the boy captive.

 

Max looks at him too, only for two seconds. But that turns out to be a terrible mistake. In the cramped living room Father Martin suddenly makes a jump for it while Max is distracted. Will turns back to him only to find his hand slapping the revolver away. Max holds on to it, but because she is standing so close to Will, the heavy metal thing hits him right in the face, across his nose, left eye, and forehead.

 

A shot rings out. It leaves Will‘s ears ringing. Searing pain shoots down his face, along with the unmistakable wet, hot feeling of blood. He is conscious enough to notice it was only the revolver, not the shot that hit him. The window is shattered into a thousand pieces. No one is seriously injured.

 

But Father Martin is now fighting, trying to wrestle the weapon out of Max‘s grip. Meanwhile, she is kicking at him. Will can‘t be sure if she‘s yelling, though. He can‘t hear from the shot, and her face is hidden by the man‘s body. Mike looks like he is, in fact, shouting. Will doesn‘t even get a chance to jump at the pastor, when Hopper is back.

 

His fist hits Father Martin‘s nose dead-on. Blood splatters on the ground and Max‘s face. A faint cry of pain pierces through the ringing in Will‘s ears. Then, they‘re going. With the pastor falling, hitting and shattering the table, they run. Hopper picks up the strange boy on his way to the door.

 

Will runs against the freezing November air as if it was a wall of ice. In a matter of seconds he is shivering. But at least it numbs the horrible pain in his face, the hammering headache the sharp metal of the revolver has left behind.

 

The group flees the scene right as a terrifying wailing sound ripples through the darkness. It might be a hand-cranked air raid siren. The loudness of it surely wakes up the entire settlement. Will desperately wants to get away from here before these people come searching the woods.

 

His hand finds Mike‘s. At least they‘re together. The frozen ground turns into a blur of dangerous bumps, darkness and cracking twigs. The trip over. More than once, every time with a groan and the knowledge that they must get up immediately.

 

Until they find the train tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might also mention: This is a no-powers AU. So the strange "boy" with the shaved head won't pull any telekinetic shit anytime soon. That would have been just too big of a subplot.
> 
> I guess I took some inspiration from The Night of the Hunter for this.
> 
> We're about halfway through the fic, btw.


	11. 011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I didn't plan for this to be Chapter 11, but... uh...  
> No, I mean, I TOTALLY planned it like that. From the beginning. I'm serious, guys.
> 
> Why am I putting out another chapter less than 24 hours after the last one? Don't know. This took me just an hour to write and I usually don't wait around with these things. So here it is.

Will finds that running becomes more and more difficult and painful once the initial surge of adrenaline has worn off. The same goes for the remaining group. While speeding down the train tracks is surely easier than having to watch out for bumps, holes and thick roots they could trip over, it still turns out exhausting. Will is panting. Hopper‘s heavy breathing is raspy, somehow more labored than Max‘s and Mike‘s. Maybe because he is carrying the boy they took from these sick people. Looking weakened and bruised, and without any shoes, the kid probably can‘t run, so this is really the only way to keep up the speed.

 

But everything has to end eventually. Will has no idea how long they have been fleeing, how many miles they have already put between themselves and Heaven‘s Hill, but it must be enough. In an unspoken agreement all four of them begin to slow down gradually, until they reach a pace that allows them to hear better. To listen to the sound of their surroundings, of which there aren‘t many. It‘s still dark, the world is asleep and indifferent to what just happened.

 

It‘s only then that Will really begins to feel it again. It‘s as though his head has been split open. A feeling he has endured too many times to count. Just as many times as the rapid loss of vision in his left eye, with the skin around it swelling significantly. He must be a mess, hardly recognizable, but without a mirror there is no way of telling. Mike‘s firm grip of his hand is grounding.

 

„Over there.“ Hopper whisper-shouts, pointing at a small clearing behind the trees that line the tracks. The nameless boy seems to be clinging on to him for dear life. He might be asleep. „We have to rest. No fire, got it?“

 

The place he chose looks reasonably safe. Will is sure he won‘t get to sleep tonight, though. They settle down by the side of the clearing close to the tracks. Hopper forbids them from unpacking more than a few blankets for themselves, as he wants to be ready to make a run for it, in case these maniacs are still following them.

 

Will is fine with that, as long as he gets to rest his legs at least until sunrise. Walking during the day is quite a lot easier. It doesn‘t take long for muffled whispering to come through to him. He and Mike are sitting a few feet away from Hopper and Max, so they can‘t exactly make out what they‘re talking about, but Will would bet his life that it has something to do with the boy, who really is asleep. Or unconscious. With a concerned frown illuminated by the pale moonlight, Hopper eyes the kid in his arms.

 

„Will? You okay?“ Mike whispers carefully.

 

Will shrugs. „Been worse.“ His swollen left eye can‘t even produce any tears. He just hopes Mike can‘t see the clear droplets on his right cheek.

 

„Yeah.“ his friend chuckles. „The day I found you, you looked way worse.“

 

„Really?“

 

„Nah.“ Mike playfully shoves at Will‘s shoulder. „You look like you‘ve been through a meat grinder. Wait a second, okay?“

 

„O-okay.“

 

Mike scrambles off, over to Hopper. Will can‘t see what he‘s doing, or hear what they‘re talking about, but his friend returns eventually. „It‘s just a small cut.“ he explains. „B-but I don‘t want you to... y‘know.“

 

„End up like you?“ Will quips. He is actually relieved that it‘s more of a swollen bruise than an actual open wound. But a wound doesn‘t have to be large to kill, he knows that. „What are you gonna do?“

 

„Here.“ Mike shows him a little metal flask. „It‘s all we have.“ Will recognizes the thing. Hopper regularly drinks from it.

 

„His booze?“

 

„Yeah. Hold still. I‘m gonna make it quick.“ Mike pulls an old, torn up shirts from his bag, rips off a patch of fabric from it, and proceeds to soak it in whatever spirit Hopper is drinking. It smells a bit like the cheap Whiskey Will‘s pa used to numb himself with.

 

It hurts. Will whimpers at the burning sensation against his forehead, despite Mike being gentle and careful. The cut must really be small, but Mike makes sure to clean it to the best of his ability. It takes Will a tremendous amount of effort to hold still while his forehead is basically set on fire.

 

„You okay?“ Mike asks, stuffing the rag back into one of his bags.

 

„I guess.“ Will sniffs. „Hurts.“ He isn‘t one to complain too much about pain, but this was probably one of the worst blows he has ever taken. He still shivers comfortably when Mike pulls a blanket over them. „Don‘t blame Max, okay?“

 

„She got distracted.“ Mike huffs. Will tries his best to give him a stern look. „Okay.“ he relents. „I‘m gonna keep my mouth shut this one time. But she better not make any more mistakes.“

 

„Don‘t be so hard on her.“ Will scolds him weakly. „Without Max we‘d just be stumbling through Wyoming with no idea where to go.“

 

This has Mike laughing quietly. It‘s nothing short of contagious, but Will‘s first burst of laughter is killed off by an equally strong burst of pain in the upper half of his face. He ends up whimpering pitifully.

 

„Sorry.“ Mike mumbles. „I- uh- I could maybe try something. Maybe that... helps.“

 

„What?“ Will asks curiously.

 

Mike turns silent. It‘s too dark to be sure, but Will could swear he is blushing, nervously looking over at Hopper and Max. When turns back, his bottom lip is tugged under his front teeth. „Just something my ma did w-when... nah... doesn‘t matter.“ His shoulders slump.

 

„Mike? It‘s okay.“ Will tries to assure him.

 

Mike smiles then. Slowly, slower than Will has ever seen him move, he comes closer. Every second of this speeds up Will‘s heart just slightly. Until Mike presses the smallest of kisses to the spot where it hurts the most. It only lasts for a second. Maybe less. But it warms Will up from the inside. Mike is seriously blushing now, just like Will, although his face is probably red or dark blue and black for the most part. It doesn‘t numb the pain at all, but it makes it bearable.

 

„S-so?“ Mike squeals. „D-does it he-help?“

 

Will‘s heart makes a funny flip in his chest, but he somehow manages to whisper „Don‘t know. Maybe you have to try again. J-just to be sure, I mean.“

 

With less hesitation than before Mike does try again. The second time turns out a bit longer, but not any less gentle and warm. „Helps.“ Will then concludes. „Really.“

 

„That‘s... good. Yeah. That‘s g-good.“ Mike utters to himself. His arms snake around Will carefully. It takes a while to find a comfortable position to rest on the cold ground and the harsh bark of the tree they‘re leaning against. Neither of them is going to sleep, though. While they remain in silence they thoroughly listen to their surroundings. All while Will‘s mind is reeling with a simple question: _What was that?_

 

* * *

 

The sun has begun casting small trickles of light on the forest ground when a faint shriek pierces the silence. Mike jumps a bit. Will is too tired to really be startled. The pain has numbed down. It‘s dull now, thrumming, but ultimately tolerable. He lazily lifts his head to find Hopper holding the strange boy, who is thrashing weakly against his grip. So, he has finally woken up. Maybe now they get a chance to get behind all this.

 

„Hey. Shhh. Kid, we‘re not gonna hurt you.“ Will has never heard Hopper talking that gently. It does a bit to help the kid, though. Will sees him in the sunlight for the first time. It‘s even more apparent like that, he‘s been through more than Will can or wants to imagine.

 

„What do you think?“ Mike asks. „What‘s his name?“ The boy looks at him with impossibly wide, wet eyes.

 

„Mike-“ Max speaks up in a somewhat exasperated tone. She doesn‘t get to finish.

 

„Dunno.“ Hopper says. „I‘m not sure he knows what‘s going on. But we can‘t just call him John Doe.“

 

„Hopper-“ Max tries again, just to be cut off.

 

„Let‘s call him skunk. He stinks.“ Mike offers nonchalantly.

 

„Mike, I-“

 

„That‘s cruel.“ Will complains. „Have you ever thought of just asking him?“

 

„Will-“

 

„He‘s not responsive, Wheeler.“ Hopper grunts in response. He turns to the boy. „Kid, can you tell us your name?“

 

„Name.“ the boy whispers fearfully. „Name.“

 

„Hey!“ Max finally yells, her face dark red with frustration. Everyone jumps, especially the boy. „Will you listen to me for once? You‘re unbelievable, you know that?“

 

„Yeah? What‘s going on, Hargrove.“ Mike huffs.

 

„I told you, it‘s Mayfield.“ she hisses. Pointing at the boy she goes on „ _That_... That‘s a girl.“ Her words cause a few seconds of silence. Just until Mike starts laughing, though.

 

„Yeah right. What‘s gotten into you, _Mayfield_?“ he chuckles. „So desperate for another girl to share your butt-bleeding stories with?“

 

„Unbelievable.“ Max shakes her head. „Just unbelievable. Come with me.“ She pulls the supposed girl to her feet. She follows Max like a lost puppy when she leads the kid behind a particularly thick tree. „I‘m gonna check.“ she shrugs.

 

„Wait!“ Mike complains. „Do you even know the difference?“

 

„You most likely don‘t.“ Max returns from behind the tree.

 

„Girls bleed from their butts.“ Mike says, as if that‘s the ultimate truth and the argument is settled.

 

Hopper disagrees, though. „Wheeler, stop that crap already. That‘s not how it works.“

 

„See? I told you. You can stop that ass-bleeding talk now.“ Max says triumphantly. A bit of rustling follows. „Yeah.“ she eventually proclaims. „It‘s a girl.“ A few seconds later she pushes the girl back to the small clearing. Her feminine features are a bit more apparent now. Her face is maybe just a tad softer than a boy‘s face should be. And Will trusts Max with this. She wouldn‘t get anything out of lying to them. No one questions her conclusion.

 

„So...“ Hopper sighs. „A girl. You‘re a girl. And... you can hear me?“

 

„Yes.“ the girl says, entirely emotionless.

 

„You understand what I‘m saying?“

 

The girl rocks her head from one side to the other. „Yes. Cold.“

 

„I know. Sorry. Wheeler, we got a spare pair of shoes in that bag. Get them for her. And look for something proper to wear.“ That‘s probably a good idea. The girl is just clad in this dirty, laced gown or dress. It‘s long-sleeved, but otherwise doesn‘t look thick or warming. Mike quickly finds her pants and a shirt, but no jacket. She‘s going to have to use a blanket. „Mayfield, you help her dress, okay?“

 

„Yeah.“ Max drags the girl away once again to dress her behind the tree. She looks way better already when she comes back. Still emaciated and abused, but not any worse than Will looks. He reckons, he actually looks more hurt with one eye swollen shut and most of his face painfully bruised.

 

The clothes don‘t fit her at all. A wide shirt with the sleeves rolled up five or more times, pants only held up by suspenders, also rolled up at least three times, shoes flopping around her feet.

 

„Found this.“ Max notes, forcing the girl‘s arm forwards. „Look!“

 

They do look. Will gasps. Hopper grunts, surprised. There‘s something on her wrist. The number _011_ burned into the ivory skin. It‘s not been done recently. The scar could be several years old for all Will knows.

 

„Eleven?“ Hopper mumbles. „What‘s that supposed to mean?“

 

„Eleven.“ the girl repeats, pointing at herself. „Eleven.“

 

„That your name, girl?“

 

„Yes.“

 

„Well, that won‘t do.“

 

Will wants to come up with something. A name for this strange girl. He doesn‘t know her, hasn‘t even spoken a word to her, but he just know she deserves better. Giving people numbers, locking them up, treating them like this Father Martin probably treated her, all that is just plain wrong. It‘s disgusting.

 

Next to him, Mike‘s shocked, pale face lights up a bit. „M-maybe we could call her El?“ he proposes. „Until we find something better.“

 

„El, huh?“ Hopper looks at the girl, speaking softly. „Would you like that for a name? El?“

 

Watery eyes look back at him. It‘s the first genuine emotion the girl, El, shows. „Name? El?“ she sniffs.

 

„Yeah. That‘s your name. If you like it. You‘re safe with us.“

 

There is something in Hopper‘s eyes now, something that Will can‘t interpret. They‘re narrowed, blinking more than usual, and a sense of knowing, of memories and pain emits from them. Just a few minutes ago Will thought Hopper might turn in the girl. Give her to the police for her own good. But now he is convinced, the man would die before turning her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this turned out at least a tiny little bit cute.


	12. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I know. Don't tell me this chapter is short, I know it's short. But I kinda like it, actually.

Things don‘t change as much as Will would have thought with ‚El‘ around. She remains silent most of the time, even to a point at which one could doubt her ability to even talk. But she can talk; In short sentences or single words, at least. Will rarely ever hears more than _‚Yes‘_ or _‚No‘_ from her.

 

She must be around his own age, but for the most part she appears to be way younger. Always so fearful and jumpy, and with big, round eyes that scan the world as if everything out here was entirely new and previously unheard of. How long did she have to live in that basement underneath Father Martin‘s house?

 

And that‘s another thing. What was down there anyways? Hopper was the only one of the group to actually climb down through the trapdoor. Of course, when he came back up to knock this self-proclaimed Father out, there was no time to explain what he had found. But even when there was finally time, he keeps his mouth shut. Will, Max and Mike don‘t ask him, though. Perhaps he would tell them if they did. Perhaps not. To be honest, Will doesn‘t feel the slightest need to know.

 

He should focus on the future anyways. Finding Jonathan, his long-term goal. They are a good step further towards that, now that they have finally found a ride to Albuquerque. In the back of a truck. Not one of these flimsy little pickups. This truck is huge, twelve foot high all in all, and for the most part stuffed with chickens in cages. The remaining empty space is relatively small, so aside from being long and bumpy, the ride is also a bit crammed.

 

„So, you see...“ Mike tries to explain for the fifth time. „...you pretend to be someone else. It‘s all just in your head. You could be a... a knight. Or a soldier, or a cowboy. Whatever you want. To have fun.“

 

„Fun?“ El repeats.

 

Mike groans, looking over at Will for help, who can do nothing but shake his head. No, he‘s not going to try it. „Max, can‘t you help him?“

 

„Me? What am I supposed to do?“ Max eyes Will, then Mike.

 

„She likes you, I think. Maybe she‘ll understand if you try.“ It‘s true, El likes Max. She likes her as much as she likes Hopper, constantly alternating between the two of them. For the most part, El sleeps snuggled up against of them at night. She could just be imitating Mike and Will. Or it‘s genuine need for the safety they provide her with.

 

„El...“ Max sighs. „I don‘t think I can explain is better than these two idiots. Let‘s just try it out when we‘re there, okay? I- ouch!“ That very moment, the truck hits a particularly large pothole. The dozens of chickens all cackle and complain in their cages, fluttering with their wings angrily. „Jesus Christ. I promise I‘m gonna teach you how to play pretend.“

 

„Pretend.“ El says. „Pretend to be Jesus Christ?“

 

„Well done, kid.“ Hopper snorts, chuckling. „Well done.“

 

„N-no. Not exactly.“ Max goes on. „I mean, sure you can pretend to be Jesus if you want, but I think some people would call that... uh...“

 

„Blasphemy.“ Mike offers.

 

„Or mental illness.“ Hopper adds.

 

And suddenly, without any warning, El‘s eyes widen, her pupils blow to an unknown size. „Blasphemy...“ she whispers. A desperate expression distorting her face, she crawls right into Hopper‘s arms. Will has never seen the tall, gruff man like this before. Softening up like this, gently whispering to El until she stops shaking. Whoever she is, whatever she‘s been through, all Will knows is, this girl is really bringing out the best in Hopper.

 

„Not your fault, Max.“ Mike mumbles. He too seems to be softening up. Will suspects it‘s the way she cares for El that impresses him. „These crazy people did that.“

 

„Yeah, well I really regret not shooting that guy.“

 

„Really...“ Mike‘s pale face gives away his thoughts. „It‘s not fun, y‘know.“ He leans back against the wooden wall of the truck, letting out a shaky breath. Will feels compelled to quickly close the gap between them. If there‘s one thing you shouldn‘t do around Mike, it‘s talking about shooting people. At least not outside of dire situations.

 

Mike gratefully takes a firm grip on Will‘s shoulder. „We‘re gonna be in Albuquerque soon.“ Will says in an attempt to change topics. „We can get something to eat, then look for a train to San Diego. Just think about it...“

 

Mike raises an eyebrow. His lips twitch into a small, weary smile. „Yeah. Two or three days, then we‘re gonna know where your brother is. If we find that Newby guy.“

 

„As soon as we find him.“ Will says firmly. „We‘re gonna find him, and we‘re gonna find Jonathan.“ His absolute certainty about it even coaxes a grin out of Mike. Will grins too. He just knows it, nothing is going to stop them now. Granted, there was some bad luck involved in their journey so far, but now that the woods of Colorado are behind them, now that there is nothing but the desert ahead, nothing can go wrong anymore.

 

They still have enough money. They are well equipped with everything they could possibly want or need. They are _friends_. Will takes another look at Mike. They‘re friends. _Friends_ , he thinks, stomach flipping over in every possible direction. And he keeps looking, even if Mike has his eyes closed comfortably. Looking helps with the pain in his bruised face.

 

* * *

 

Albuquerque is... well, it‘s a terrible place. At least that‘s what Will thinks. People live here, people work here, so at least some of them probably like hit. But Will had just gotten used to trees again, to the safety and protection they offered at night and even during the day. He had gotten used to not being able to see more than 150 feet ahead due to hills and slopes and rocks.

 

There is nothing of that here. It‘s Will‘s first time seeing an actual desert. The truck driver had to drop them off by the outskirts, where there‘s nothing but red or orange sand, dry grass, a few houses - and mostly construction sites. This place seems to be growing, for whatever reason. In Will‘s opinion it‘s even worse than Nebraska.

 

Max doesn‘t mind the flatness of everything too much, but Will recognizes how it gets to Mike too. But especially El is more fearful than usual. She likely has never seen anything like this. This vast expanse of wide open _nothing_ , with no shelter anywhere near.

 

One would think the desert is hot, or at least warm. It‘s not. Not at all. Will would estimate the temperatures to 45 degrees at best, enough to make them all shiver. A cold wind is blowing too. But just like back in Lincoln, they‘re not planning on staying terribly long.

 

Just long enough to get a real meal at a real diner. God knows they all need it, and the way El is marveling at her waffles, it‘s obvious she never had anything even remotely delicious before.

 

There‘s some rustling with paper. Will perks up from his own plate for the first time in minutes. „What are you doing?“

 

Hopper‘s own serving is long gone. He has replaced his plate with a map, wrestling the stubborn paper to remain flat on the table. „Looking for something. Should have done it earlier.“

 

Mike, who is sitting next to Hopper, scans the map with some suspicion flickering behind his eyes. „Hey, that‘s Colorado.“ he notes. „Aren‘t we past that?“

 

„Yeah. You kids are.“ Hopper says darkly. „Navigation 101, Wheeler. Look at this.“ He points his finger at a point on the map. Will can‘t see it from the angle he is looking at the paper. He shoots Max a gaze, but she just shrugs, signaling him to pay attention.

 

„Train tracks.“ Mike ponders. „Is that where the train stopped?“

 

„You‘re damn right. And what do you think, how far did we walk until we found-“ Hopper lets his hand rest on El‘s shoulder, who doesn‘t really pay him any mind.

 

„Twenty? Thirty? No idea.“ Mike shrugs.

 

„Then we‘re gonna have to go with twenty to thirty.“ Using the stub of what once was a pencil, Hopper carefully draws a circle on the map. So that‘s what he‘s about. Marking the location of Heaven‘s Hill. Will leans over the table to find that, within the circle, there is no sign of a documented settlement. And he‘d bet his life, there is no official settlement called Heaven‘s Hill anywhere near that circle either.

 

„Why are you doing this?“ he asks.

 

„Kid, someone‘s gotta know what‘s going on in that place. Police are gonna get this map.“

 

„Police?“ Mike mumbles. „Hop, I don‘t-“

 

„Relax.“ Hopper sighs. „We‘re not in Indiana anymore. But they‘re never gonna know who gave them the tip anyways. That‘s what mailboxes are for. Or do you think that Father Martin guy is gonna spill on us? Tell them we took his... his...“

 

El looks up then. „Sacrifice.“ she says.

 

„What?“ Mike bursts out, spilling water all over himself. „What?“

 

El points at herself, proclaiming matter-of-factly „Sacrifice.“

 

It only makes Will wonder more what Hopper has seen in that basement. But it also fuels his repulsion of the topic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I'm now working on 2 continuing fics at the same time. I can't say that scares me though.  
> Just want to inform you, though, updates might be scarce next week. My broken leg doesn't inhibit my ability to sit at a desk, so I'm gonna work overtime for 7 days. Sucks, but I gotta get the bills paid.


	13. On the Road Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been 10 days, but yeah, I worked for 7 days straight and wasn't in the mood to write. Aaaaaand I'm in for another 7 day work week. I'm gonna get a day off because FINALLY the cast is gonna come off my leg, but it's gonna be another stressful week, so be patient with me. I'll try to put out another chapter tomorrow and possibly get a chapter for 'It's the doubt' done as well.
> 
> Until then, just enjoy this chapter, which I could also call 'Kids being kids'

There is more than a mild Déjà vu experience to the train rattling and rocking them in the almost empty freight car. These things all look the same. They all feel the same, they smell the same. The spiders look similar. For all Will knows, these could be the exact same spiders that were also with them on the train they took in Indianapolis. Wouldn‘t it be funny if there were actually Spiders that follow people around? God, why does Will even think of such nonsense? Probably to numb the stinging sensation on his scalp.

 

„Ow! Can‘t you- ow! Max!“

 

Will can‘t see her, but he could swear she is rolling her eyes. „It‘ll hurt less if you hold still.“ Max huffs mercilessly.

 

„It doesn‘t hurt at all when Mike does it.“ Will counters.

 

„Yeah, but when Wheeler cuts your hair, you look like crap afterwards. I swear, this is gonna be your first decent haircut in months.“

 

Will knows there is some truth to it. She has already cut Mike‘s hair, and he doesn‘t look half bad. His scowl distorts his face, though, and it probably won‘t stop until Max stops hurting Will. To be fair, it‘s not even _that_ terrible. If it was, Mike would have already ripped the scissors from her hand. But he has retorted to staying close to Max to have that option.

 

Meanwhile, El is sitting next to Hopper, huddled up under a blanket, watching the scene with greatest interest. Sometimes she whispers something to the man. He answers, but Will can‘t hear a thing over the noise the train makes.

 

„There, all done.“ Max says after a long, torturous while. „Looking sharp, Byers.“

 

„Thank you.“ Will mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

 

„Yeah, well I‘m gonna have to get that grease off my fingers. Boys are disgusting.“ She heads over to her bags to find a rag.

 

„Yeah, I wanna see her hair after a few months of this.“ Mike grunts quietly. „What about your face?“

 

„Hurts.“ Will admits. At least it‘s not swollen anymore, but the bruises must still be dark blue. Not that Will would know without a mirror.

 

„You‘re getting better.“ Mike drops down on the ground next to Will. „But your brother is gonna freak out.“

 

„W-why?“

 

„Because we‘re gonna find him before this is all gone.“ Pointing at Will‘s face, Mike smiles confidently.

 

„You really think we‘ll be that fast?“ Will muses.

 

„Sure. Hop, how many hours until San Diego?“

 

„Twenty, maybe?“ Hopper guesses. „But we‘re gonna have to walk to Ramona from there. Or maybe catch a ride. That‘s about thirty miles to cover.“

 

„See?“ Mike says triumphantly. „And then it‘s just a matter of catching another train to where Jonathan is. What about you, Mayfield?“

 

„What about me?“ Max asks, confused.

 

„You‘re gonna stay in San Diego with your daddy? Or actually stay with us?“

 

„I told you I‘m gonna stay, no matter what.“ It‘s a bit like she is responding to the fearful gaze El is shooting her. Will is pretty sure there is no way to separate these two. Just as there‘s no way to separate him and Mike. On top of that, he is also convinced Hopper will go wherever El goes. So yeah, nothing will ever break up this group.

 

The knowledge is as comforting as it is frightening. Because who knows how long their search is actually going to take? Who knows what else they‘ll all have to go through before it‘s over, what else Will is going to put the other through just for his own sake?

 

* * *

 

The many uneventful hours they spend, finally on their way to California, are more than welcome. Will might even go as far and say he could spend a few more days like that, in peace and quiet, even if it meant a delay for his family reunion. The little group, that‘s suddenly not so little anymore, doesn‘t do a lot besides catching up on much needed sleep, all while hoping the train doesn‘t break like it did in Colorado. But what are the odds?

 

Hopper doesn‘t snore half as loud since they took El from Heaven‘s Hill. This only fuels Mike‘s theory that the man only did it to annoy the others, and now cuts back on it because he actually cares for El. Which he really does. Hopper and Max both constantly fuzz around her, explaining whatever she asks of them. How does a train even work? How big is this world that they can spend such a long time moving without ever reaching the end of it? Is it as full of people as Albuquerque was?

 

Well, for the most part it isn‘t. Will thought Nebraska was boring, but it was nothing compared to this desert. New Mexico. Arizona. Whenever he slides the door of the freight car open to get some fresh air inside, it‘s all just red rocks, sand, dry grass. It‘s all crumbled, even in the winter. But there are positive sides to it. The further west they progress, the warmer it gets. In Albuquerque Will had to wear a jacket. A mere 24 hours after catching the train, he doesn‘t.

 

For El it seems to be the first time feeling warm in her entire life. That‘s good for her, but it‘s also absolutely terrible. Whenever Hopper takes notice of one of these details, anything she doesn‘t know, anything she has never experienced before, his hands clench into fists of rage. In these moments Will is convinced he regrets not having killed Father Martin when he had the chance.

 

But Hopper never mentions the mad pastor again, and it‘s for the better, seeing as El is a sensitive girl. She is completely dependent on Hopper and Max, but that‘s not necessarily a bad thing. Will thinks everyone should have someone else they can rely on. Someone to hold on to when the night is dark and cold.

 

* * *

 

Their first night in California isn‘t cold, though. Really, it feels a bit like a small heat wave. One shirt, one pair of pants, that‘s enough to stay warm. Enough to start sweating a little. In contrast to Colorado, where Will wore up to three shirts at once, it‘s a welcome relief. Sweating is way better than freezing. Somewhere in the San Diego area, the group gets off the train early enough to avoid being spotted, and to avoid climbing any fences. Something that Mike is more than relieved about.

 

The sun has already started setting by then, but it‘s not the time for rest. They had enough of that on the train ride, that‘s what they all agree on. Hopper seems convinced they can make it to Bob Newby‘s radio store in Ramona before sunrise. Which means Will is going to know where Jonathan is in less than a day. Which, in turn, means there‘s not much more than a few days or weeks that separates him from his brother now.

 

The highway is empty at this time of night, and even if that means they can‘t catch a ride to cover the distance to Ramona. Will wouldn‘t want it any other way. Spirits higher than ever, plenty of energy to walk, he skips up and down in his too large shoes, dragging a long wooden stick after himself on the ground. The long walk is a good opportunity to explain to El what it actually means to have fun.

 

„So you take the stick, right?“ Max says, looking at El.

 

„Like this?“ she asks, unsure why she is even holding that dry tree branch.

 

„Yeah.“ Mike cuts in. „I mean, you don‘t have to. You can do whatever you want with it, that‘s the point. Here, look.“ He swings his own tree branch at her, hitting her stick with a _clack!_ El jumps back a little, startled at the sudden action.

 

„It‘s just a game.“ Will explains under Hopper‘s watchful gaze. „Okay, look.“ He turns to Mike, holding his stick like the sword it‘s supposed to represent. „En garde!“

 

And just like Mike did with El, he swings his ‚sword‘, forcing his friend to defend himself. Will swears he can see Hopper, who is strolling along at a short distance behind them, rolling his eyes when Mike actually hits back, and a more or less skillful sword fight ensues between the two of them. They never stop walking, though, meaning Will and Mike are forced to move sideways, backwards, circle around each other, all while clacking their sticks together.

 

None of them try to actually hit each other, although that would be the point of an actual fight. It takes a little while, but eventually El begins mimicking their actions with Max. She is hesitant at first, and Max doesn‘t push her. Still, Will believes to recognize something like joy in her eyes. Squeaking, she jumps out of the way when Max launches the stick at her, yelling „Dodge!“ Her shout echoes along the empty road.

 

The two of them are still going at it when Mike and Will have already tired themselves out. „What do you think?“ Mike asks quietly.

 

„About what?“

 

„Those two.“ He points at Max and El. „It‘s not so bad. Not as bad as I thought.“

 

„Running around with girls?“ Will contemplates that for a second. „It‘s good. But I never said anything else.“

 

„Nah...“ Mike sighs. „That was me. But, I mean, Max is practically a guy. And El... she‘s...“

 

„Different.“ Hopper‘s voice, coming out of nowhere, makes Will jump. „Can‘t blame her for that, kid.“

 

„I don‘t. I blame that maniac. What was in that basement anyways, Hop? Can‘t have been empty.“ Mike eyes the man intently. Will does too, and he doesn‘t like what he sees. Hopper‘s expression turns dark and unreadable as he clears his throat loudly.

 

„It‘s good you‘re done behaving like little kids.“ he says, avoiding Mike‘s question. „Told you, you can get along with Mayfield just fine.“ He falls back again after that, leaving Mike and Will in the middle, with the girls running up ahead, giggling.

 

„He‘s right, y‘know.“ Will whispers to Mike. „It‘s good that you‘re not fighting anymore.“

 

„Yeah.“ Mike casts Will a gaze that says it all. „She‘s okay. But just so you know, you‘re still my favorite.“

 

Up until now, Will didn‘t think this starry night could become any warmer. But it does. And still, even after knowing Mike for so long, after sharing everything with him, from cigarettes to a sleeping bag and blankets, Will can‘t put his finger on it. What is it with him and Mike? Thinking back to just last week when Mike tended to his wound and just effortlessly made it better, an odd sense of longing mixed with guilt boils up inside of Will. As if he wants something he shouldn‘t want, whatever it is.

 

It‘s a feeling that is only soothed when Mike lets his hand slip along Will‘s palm and their fingers entwine. And like so many times before, not a word is spoken. For Will and Mike it feels unnecessary. As for Hopper, he notices, but also remains quiet. He never mentioned the two of them sleeping together, or sharing a blanket by the campfire, even though it must seem weird. Then again, he doesn‘t mention Max and El sleeping together either. Will is grateful for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I'm not artificially stretching it out. We just got a lot more ground to cover with this story.


	14. End of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I'm really sorry, guys.

The morning sun is warm. One might even call it hot. This is the first time in months Will sees Hopper without his threadbare leather jacket. Will cheers at the first rays of sunlight. They promise hope, new knowledge, a new place to go. All this is within his reach now. He‘ll only have to wait until the store opens.

 

Seated on a bench by Ramona‘s empty main road, Will once again traces the scar one Mike‘s hand. It‘s soothing to him in a weird way. It prevents his thoughts from running wild. From experience he knows, the waiting is the hardest part. Minutes can drag on like hours if you‘re waiting for something really important.

 

But Mike is always here to keep him company. While Hopper and Max are failing miserably at trying to explain to El why the sun rises in the morning, Will and Mike talk about everything and nothing. About the road so far, and the road ahead. About Jonathan. All while Will is at the same time anxiously twitchy, and dead tired from walking for such a long time.

 

„It‘s just two weeks until Christmas.“ Mike sighs, his eyes closed against the orange light.

 

„Do you think we‘ll have found him by then?“ Will whispers.

 

Mike takes a deep breath of fresh air, and Will does the same. „We got to the west coast in a month. Can‘t take more than two weeks to get to him.“

 

„If he‘s still anywhere near.“

 

„He wrote in his letter he‘s not gonna leave the coast.“

 

„But he wasn‘t sure if he was gonna find a job here.“ Will returns. „And then there‘s still Oregon and Washington.“

 

Mike‘s hand, the one with the scar, closes around Will‘s. „Why worry about that when we don‘t know anything yet? This Newby guy is gonna tell us everything we need to find him.“

 

„And then we can stop searching, and just go wherever Jonathan is.“ Will sighs. „Yeah. I just... I can‘t wait anymore, Mike.“

 

„I know. Just... just look at them. They do it right.“ Mike points at the other three, and for the first time Will actually gets to listen to what they are saying.

 

 

„It spins?“ El gasps. „But... we‘re not sick.“

 

„Yeah, well, because it‘s so big.“ Max says. „Point is, when it‘s night the sun is just on the other side of the Earth. So it‘s day over there when it‘s night over here.“

 

„Over there.“ El echoes warily. „Over there?“

 

„Like, Europe. Australia. Or China.“

 

„Can we go there?“

 

„That‘s too far away.“ Hopper throws in. „And there‘s oceans in the way. But you wouldn‘t even understand the people there. They all speak different languages.“

 

Mike turns back to Will. „See? Distraction.“

 

„Okay... okay...“ Will sighs. „How about that. It‘s pretty dry here, hm?“

 

„Yeah.“ Mike agrees. „But just think about how we‘re gonna celebrate Christmas on the beach, or somewhere outside with a picnic. That‘s crazy.“

 

Mike is right. It‘s absolutely crazy. Sunshine and swimming in the ocean. Actually, to Will that would be crazy enough even if it was summer. But in the winter, that‘s absolutely unheard of. But it‘s something Will would love. Just lie down in the warm sand, look at the clouds, and be happy for once. Together with Mike, with Jonathan, with Hopper, Max and El.

 

Well, here on the bench with Mike, staring at the clouds is the next best thing to that. Mike leans over to hand Will what is left of his cigarette, and while Will has his own hidden within reach under hit hat, he takes it gratefully, eager to feel the calming effect. „Thanks.“ He turns around to take another look at the store.

 

The sign says ‚RADIO - TELEVISION - HOUSEHOLD DEVICES‘ with a smaller row ‚Newby & Sons‘ underneath it. From the looks of it, the whole thing can be lit up in different colors, but as of yet, the store is closed. Will yawns. His feet are so damn sore from the twelve hour march from San Diego, and Mike‘s side is so warm and soft, he wants to somehow sink into it.

 

His eyes fall shut once. Images of what is hopefully to come. They snap open again. But it‘s too hard to keep them open. With Mike whispering into his ear about whatever he can see in the clouds, a dolphin, a car, a tiger, Will lets the world drift away from himself.

 

* * *

 

„Will! Will! Wake up!“ Will feels himself shaken roughly, making him dizzy and disoriented.

 

„Where- oh.“ he grunts, when he notices his surroundings. A car rattles by, filling his nostrils with stinging smoke. Right. This is Ramona, California. Dry grass, few trees, but the but breathtaking landscape of a valley all around him.

 

There is Mike, leaning down to Will from where he is standing. „The store! We gotta go, Will!“

 

That‘s all it takes for Will to jump up from the bench. He ignores his numb backside that was pressed against the hard, dry wood for god knows how long. „The store? Newby?“

 

„Yeah.“ Hopper confirms. „We already gave him some time to open up and get stuff in order. I think it‘s time. You want the honors this time, Byers?“

 

„Y-you want me to talk to him?“ Will asks, overwhelmed by this whole situation.

 

„I mean, if you don‘t want to... I just thought we‘re not gonna even start lying this time. We gotta ask about your brother anyways.“

 

„No it‘s good, it‘s good.“ Will quickly says. „I‘m gonna... yeah. Don‘t wanna waste any more time.“

 

„We‘re right here with you.“ Mike says quietly, as Will takes the first step over to the store. A bell rings, sharp and loud, when he pushes the door open.

 

The response is immediate. „Ah, good morning. Welcome to Newby‘s. How may I help you on this wonderful Tuesday?“ The man behind the counter isn‘t quiet as tall as Hopper. A bit plump, kind looking, and suddenly slightly shocked. Will can‘t blame him. The sight of a dirty kid, followed by three more dirty kids and an equally filthy, bearded man, can be too much for some to handle. Especially store owners.

 

„Mr... Newby?“ Will asks carefully.

 

„Uhm, yeah. That‘s me. How can I help you? I suppose you‘re not gonna buy a... television?“

 

„N-no.“ Will says. „It‘s about a letter. Here, this one.“ He takes the letter from Jonathan out of his breast pocket. How many times has he read it? „My name is William Byers. My brother Jonathan was here a few months ago, a-and... here...“ He points at the most important paragraph, leaning on the counter. „It says you should know where he is right now.“

 

Mr Newby looks at the letter, reading intently. He pales visibly, and somehow Will gets the feeling something is going very wrong right now. His stomach churns painfully when the man opposite to him starts speaking. „I‘m Waylon Newby. Robert... Bob... was my brother.“

 

Will‘s legs threaten to give in for a second. „Was?“ he croaks. „He _was_ your brother?“

 

Waylon Newby lets go of the letter, reaches over to a shelf behind him, and shows Will an old photograph. It shows the store, just without the ‚TELEVISION‘ part of the sign, along with three men. All of them look oddly alike. „That‘s me, that‘s Bob, and our father. Back when he retired. We ran the shop together until last month and then...“ Newby sighs, running a hand down his face. „Bob went on a hunting trip. Ever tried fighting a bear? You can‘t win. He never came back.“

 

„And you saved- I mean, I‘m sorry.“ Will says, suddenly finding a little bit of courtesy in the blur that is his throbbing mind. „You saved his mail, right?“

 

Waylon Newby looks seriously close to utter desperation now. „Business mail, sure. I‘m sorry, but anything that was private... I had no business with that. It‘s... it‘s gone.“

 

„Hold on a second.“ Hopper speaks up for the first time, making Newby flinch a little. „Jim Hopper, sorry for your loss. But you can‘t tell me you just threw his private mail away. I mean, people go through your trashcans, dig up all that crap.“

 

„Burned it all.“ Mr Newby groans. „How were we supposed to know someone would come asking? Bob never told me about any of this.“

 

A hole has been pierced right inside of Will‘s guts. With the feeling he could collect his inner organs from the floor if he just reached down, he stumbles backwards. He can barely hear Mr Newby‘s frantic assurances of regret as his back collides with the door. The rattling bell startles him, catching his eye. Looking up is better. That way Will doesn‘t have to see all the grim faces that are somehow all fixed on him.

 

Where has the night gone? The few hours of adventure on the dark and dusty road when Will was absolutely convinced things were going to turn out okay. Where have the early morning hours gone? The simple joy of watching the clouds, of numbing the nervous anticipation with cigarette smoke?

 

They have made way for another certainty. Nothing is going to be okay. Bob Newby is dead. The trail is cold. This is the end of it. The end of the road. And suddenly, Will wants nothing more than to run away as far as he can from these people. From Waylon Newby, who only means bad news. From his group, who went through so many weeks of hardship, just to end up here.

 

And Will does run.

 

* * *

 

„You‘re fast.“ Mike notes. His frame blocks the sun, his arms are crossed in front of his chest disapprovingly. Sweat is running down his face in thick trails. „Good thing you don‘t have any water on you, huh?“

 

Good? That‘s a matter of perspective. Will could have kept going if he had water. But after a good hour of running, there was nothing left to do for him but lie down by the side of the road and look at the sky. His body just wouldn‘t obey his mind anymore. Now, the blistering sun smiles down from the infinite blue, as if to mock Will. _‚I really got you, didn‘t I? First I make you believe it‘s gonna be a good day, then I take it all away from you in a single, terrible second.‘_

 

Mike‘s behind makes a dull _thud!_ when he drops to the ground next to Will. A sharp pain shoots through Will‘s head when Mike smacks him there with his flat hand. He hasn‘t done that since Indianapolis. Will just wishes he could do it a few more times, but Mike doesn‘t. „I didn‘t think you‘d ever leave me like that, Byers.“ he spits instead. „Didn‘t think you were such a sissy quitter.“

 

„Quitter?“ Will asks coldly. „I‘m not quitting. I‘m going back to Indiana.“

 

„Yeah. I think that‘s just the sunstroke speaking. Sunburn is gonna be next.“

 

„But Jonathan might come back and get me.“ Will insists.

 

Mike groans at that. „No, you‘re just gonna miss each other again if you do that right now. I swear, if you go back you‘re never gonna see him again.“ Groaning as though in pain, Mike lies down flat on his back. „If you go back, I‘m not gonna come with you.“

 

Now, this really hits home. It‘s Will‘s worst fear, even worse than never seeing Jonathan again, he reckons, and the threat works immediately, although Will can‘t possibly know if Mike is just bluffing. „Please don‘t leave me.“

 

„Then you shouldn‘t think about leaving _me_.“ Mike shoots. He softens, though, inching closer to Will. „We‘re going to Max‘s pa for the moment. Figure something out.“

 

If Mike is trying to get some hope back into Will‘s system, he fails at that. His words are too final. It‘s more like he‘s saying _‚We‘re gonna live with Max from now on. The end.‘_ They almost, _almost_ manage to make Will cry. But he can‘t. He‘s just so empty.

 

„So that means back to San Diego? All this for nothing?“ he sighs.

 

„Not for nothing. We‘re smarter now. Listen, the others are gonna catch up with us if we just stay here for a while. You should sleep. There‘s some shade over there.“ Mike points at a few lonely trees at a good distance from the still empty road.

 

Will reluctantly follows him there. Why can‘t he just remain there within reach of the sunlight until he crumbles into dust? Because Mike won‘t allow it. Maybe he wants to make Will cry. Maybe he wants to pull these dark thoughts out of him with his way too warm embrace.

 

Will closes his dry, sore eyes. He starts sweating even more when Mike‘s hot breath tickles his cheek. „You gotta drink something before you fall asleep.“

 

Will nods, exhausted and tired out of his mind. Mike‘s canteen rattles a bit when he pushes it up against Will‘s lips, who greedily takes in the entire thing. Water is good. It makes away with the dehydration. But can it replace the lost hope? The answer is no.

 

Not even Mike can. No reassurance, no gentle touch, not even the tiny peck he leaves right where Will‘s jawline ends. He barely feels it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A story isn't complete without the hero losing all hope at some point.


	15. San Diego

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry I took so long. And even more sorry I haven't updated 'It's the doubt' in such a long time, but that 7 day work week really wrecked me. And I'm just in the middle of a 12 day week (yes, this exists for some of us)
> 
> Not complaining when I'm making good money. And, on a more positive note, I finally got the cast off my leg and I can pretty much walk like normal again.

„So what‘s it with you and your parents anyways?“ Mike asks, letting mild disinterest shine through with his words. Will only listens with one ear. His feet obey him now, but his mind is entirely numb and detached from reality.

 

„What do you mean?“ Max returns. „I‘m me, they‘re my parents. Not that hard, Wheeler.“

 

She smirks, when Mike groans with impatience. „You know what I mean. Why aren‘t they together anymore. Marriage is for life.“

 

„Not for everyone. It was a money thing, I think.“ she says darkly. „Pa lost his job, y‘know. Had a small business, then it was gone. I guess ma didn‘ want to be married to a plumber turned barkeep. Him being a plumber must have been bad for her in the first place. Then she met Neil.“

 

„Yeah, but how is that guy better than your pa?“

 

Max shrugs, but her explanation kind of makes sense. „He was a regular at the bar she and pa worked at. Started bragging how his father had died and he had inherited the farm in Nebraska. Ma went with him, I didn‘t have a choice.“ Will can see her biting back tears now. He doesn‘t mention it. Everyone else must notice it too, and there‘s no reason to point it out.

 

„How long did you live with him?“ Hopper inquires. „Must‘ve been hell on earth.“ He takes the words right out of Will‘s mouth, because he too went through that. A supposed father, nothing but an intruder into a formerly happy life, turning it all to shit. And he knows he can‘t blame his pa for his mother‘s death, but that doesn‘t make it less his fault, in some twisted way Will doesn‘t understand. Right here and now he thinks Jonathan and him would have been better off alone. If Lonnie only hadn‘t returned from the war.

 

„Three years and a few months.“ Max says quietly. „You‘re right.“

 

„Should‘ve brought your brother, kid. He didn‘t look too happy either.“

 

„Billy?“ she snorts. „Gave me more bruises than Neil, I think. I‘m glad I‘m rid of him.“

 

Through the thick haze in his brain, Will feels slightly dumbfounded. It actually shouldn‘t be surprise, Billy Hargrove turning out like his father. That can only mean Jonathan is a rare exception. Someone who broke the cycle. Or someone who spent the first few years of his life, the most important ones, with the best mother in the world.

 

„Can‘t we maybe catch a bus?“ Mike throws in out of nowhere. Will doesn‘t care. He knows his feet are probably hurting without him even noticing, or will be hurting sooner rather than later, but maybe the pain is a good thing. Something to cleanse his mind.

 

„No.“ Hopper says, defeated. „I don‘t wanna spend what little we have left as long as we can walk.“

 

„Why not?“ Max shrugs. „We‘re not gonna have to worry about food when we‘re with my pa.“

 

„No offense, kid, but I don‘t think your pa‘s gonna feed four complete strangers. I don‘t want him to. We‘ve been fine on our own before, you know.“

 

That‘s true. They were fine on the streets of Indianapolis. And, well, if they can‘t find Jonathan, they sure as hell can find themselves something to eat. A safe place to sleep would be a relief, though. Not right now, but later. No, right now Will really doesn‘t feel the need to sleep. Sit in a corner and stare at a wall, that could be nice.

 

* * *

 

They eventually reach a part of San Diego that is so much more like the areas of Indianapolis Will has spent the better part of a year in. This really is a dead end for anyone who ends up here, as it seems. Half of it must be bars, there are some gas stations, some smaller stores, barber shops with barred windows, a whole lot of gun stores, and right at the end of it, houses that look uninhabitable for the most part.

 

Will‘s mind calls them _‚houses‘_ though they‘re little more than shacks, really. A hot day has turned into a warm, humid evening. A terrible combination. Will finally feels the exhaustion, after hours of shutting off his mind as best as he could. Wandering these streets in silence, with only Mike‘s hand on his shoulder to ground him, it all comes crashing down.

 

This really is the end. Mike can tell him they‘re going to figure something out all day long, but that doesn‘t change the fact that Bob Newby is dead. Whatever letters he may have received from Jonathan, they‘re gone for good, and so is any chance for Will to find his brother again. The realization is gut-wrenching, but it‘s true nonetheless: He will live out the rest of his days here, or any other shabby place where people barricade their doors at night, without ever seeing Jonathan again.

 

„Around that corner, by the end of the street.“ Max instructs Hopper, who is leading the way for once. He only keeps El in front of himself to be able to see what she‘s up to. Max looks confident around here. No wonder, this used to be her home. Will would probably walk the streets of Hawkins with the same sense of superiority, but only as long as he could be sure he‘s not going to come across his father.

 

The street they turn into is just the same sight all over again. At some point people must have built houses here in an attempt to make it big. Follow the American dream, get rich or die trying. Well, most of them must have died trying. The rest has simply failed. The house, the moldy old bungalow Max leads them to, is situated right where the road, that is really just a sandy trail, stops in the middle of nowhere. Past there it‘s all just dirty sand with dried vegetation, tinged in orange California sunlight.

 

„That it?“ Hopper asks, pointing at the house. Max nods, and Will notices the mailbox in front of it that has _‚Mayfield‘_ written on it in flaking white paint.

 

„I don‘t know if he‘s here, though. Could be at work.“

 

„Hey.“ Mike interjects. „How could you even know he still lives here?“

 

„Are you really that dumb, Wheeler? Ever heard of letters?“ Max snorts indignantly. „Neil never cared much for that. Alright, let‘s see if-“ She stops there. A creaking sound, that is just short of assaulting Will‘s ears, comes from the house. It climaxes in something that sounds like glass shattering.

 

A man is standing there in the now open doorframe, his left hand still extended as if he was holding a cup of some sorts. But said cup now lies in shards right in front of his feet on the holey front porch. Will would say he‘s in his mid-forties, not clean shaven, not clean in any way really, with diminishing red hair and an expression of greatest disbelief plastered across his wrinkled face. „Max?“

 

Will then witnesses a tearful family reunion. With growing bitterness, he watches Max rush forwards, squealing like a little girl. Her father takes a step over the shattered cup, and doesn‘t hesitate to pick her up, even if her weight makes him groan. Will can clearly see the tears trickling from his eyes, but that only fuels his rage and the sense of injustice in all of this.

 

Max and her father talk quietly to each other for a while. Too quietly for any of the other to actually get a lot of it. Hopper keeps the boys and El at a distance to grant them some privacy, but it doesn‘t last too long. Max‘s father approaches them, while Max remains on the porch, showing off a wet smile.

 

„F-Frank Mayfield.“ he introduces himself to Hopper. „Sir, I can‘t-“

 

„Jim Hopper. Hopper. Or Jim, if you want.“ he responds. „Please never call me _Sir_.“

 

„Frank.“ Mr Mayfield repeats, taking Hopper‘s hand. „I don‘t have much, but it‘s all yours if you want.“

 

„Easy there.“ Hopper chuckles. „What‘d I do to deserve that?“

 

„Y-you brought Max here.“ Frank Mayfield says shakily.

 

„Nah. I just kinda tagged along with these kids.“ Hopper shrugs. „Couldn‘t have stopped them if I wanted to.“ He is really stretching the truth there. They wouldn‘t be here without Hopper, Will knows that, and through all the injustice and rage he is feeling, he _is_ grateful.

 

„Just... please come in.“ Mr Mayfield goes on. „I know you don‘t have a place to stay. I can‘t offer you a bed or even enough food, but a roof. And coffee.“

 

„More than enough.“ Hopper says seriously. „We‘re gonna take care of food ourselves.“

 

„Been a while since we had a roof to sleep under.“ Mike agrees, but it‘s more directed at Will, as if that‘s going to make him feel better. The truth is, he‘d gladly sleep out in the open for the rest of his life if he could just undo the last two days and resume on his journey. But this is the end.

 

Mr Mayfield notices Mike‘s remark. „Come inside. Please. You can stay as long as you want.“

 

Especially Hopper, El and Max don‘t need to be told twice. They step inside, while Mr Mayfield quickly removes the shards from the doorstep. Just Mike and Will stay behind for a little while.

 

„At least we got a place to sleep for now, huh? My feet are killing me.“

 

„Yeah.“ Will rasps out. It‘s the first time in hours he has said a single word. His mouth is dry, cracked up and hurting. He can feel dehydrated skin peeling of his lips. „Regroup and rethink, right?“ He forces a weak smile that is one hundred percent fake.

 

„You‘re damn right, Private.“ Mike jokes. These past few weeks they didn‘t have a lot of time for fun, but his voice is reminiscent of all the times they used to play on the streets of Indianapolis. „Get inside.“

 

Will sniffs a bit, and while he really wishes nothing more than to cry, get all the pressure out of the coil in his chest that is about ready to burst, the tears just won‘t come. The tension has never built up this far. He should explode, but he just doesn‘t for some reason.

 

* * *

 

If this is the house Max grew up in after her father lost his business, well then Will can understand her mother‘s decision to leave for the promise of something better at least to some degree. It‘s one-story, with a living room and small kitchen combined, a bathroom, and two separate rooms aside from that. The dark wood that nearly everything in here is made of, the dirty carpet that lets the cracked up floor show through in places, it all reminds him of his own home back in Hawkins.

 

The difference is, this place belongs to an incredibly loving man. And that‘s why Will‘s understanding for Susan Hargrove remains in tight borders, despite the condition of this home. They have all made themselves as comfortable as they can in the living room, with cups of coffee, even though the weather is way too warm for that. Will doesn‘t like the taste. He drinks it anyways, because he feels it‘s just what he deserves. A bitter drink for a bitter time.

 

At least he doesn‘t have to talk. Relaxed as he can be under the circumstances, he stays in a corner with Mike, wrapped in his embrace but still too numb to really realize or appreciate it. He listens to Max giving her father a detailed rundown of what they all went through together on their way to California. Hopper doesn‘t interrupt her or show any signs of irritation when she pretty much leaves out Heaven‘s Hill. Frank Mayfield looks like the kind of person who would flip if he knew about that. In Max‘s story, El is just another runaway like Mike and Will.

 

„That‘s... what am I supposed to say, Max?“ Frank Mayfield sighs a while after she is finished. „I should ground you.“ But he doesn‘t sound too serious with this. „Your mother knows where you are?“

 

„She knows I went.“ Max answers. „But if I send her a letter and Neil finds out, he‘s gonna kill her.“ There is just a minimal amount of pity in her voice.

 

„Then she thinks you‘re still looking for Will‘s brother.“ he contemplates. Will perks up at the second mention of Jonathan tonight. He listened intently when Max told her father the story of how he arrived at the farm, how they became friends, and how it all ended with the barn burning down. He is grateful for how she told the story, without ever leaving a doubt that she doesn‘t believe it was Jonathan‘s fault. Because it wasn‘t. He‘s not an arsonist.

 

„She knows I went after Hopper. And that I‘m safe with him.“

 

„You‘re safe here too, you know.“ Mr Mayfield turns to Hopper, who has listened just as closely as Will. „You‘re welcome here as long as you want.“

 

Hopper nods slowly, thoughtfully. „I‘m not one for giving up. But a little rest is gonna do us good.“

 

Rest. It‘s true, Will needs that desperately. His mind won‘t allow it, though. Thoughts of Jonathan, all alone somewhere out in the desert, or in a small shack in the woods torment him. Even worse, he thinks about Jonathan coming back to Indiana to get him, only to find that he‘s long gone. Mike whispers something. Will nods, without understanding. His eyes close, snap open again, but remain closed in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. Could this really be the end for Will's quest?


	16. New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter ahead. It's a bit meh if you ask me, but it's here to fill a gap more than anything.

Time takes Will by surprise. Living on the road, constantly on the move, seeing new things and new people, a day can feel like a week. He knows that from experience. Especially the most exhausting days tend to do that; stretch into unknown lengths of seemingly never ending straight roads in the middle of nowhere.

 

He still can‘t believe it took them a whole month to get from Indianapolis to San Diego. And it‘s even harder to grasp that they‘ve been here, in Frank Mayfield‘s house, for a whole week. Long enough to call this normal, actually. The time spent in Nebraska at Doctor Owens‘ house also felt like normal after the third day or so.

 

But that week just flew by so quickly, Will has no idea if he has even adjusted to his new living accommodations yet. At least, the blurry barrier around his mind appears to be melting. Somewhere around day two, he actually started registering and interacting with his surroundings again, much to Mike‘s relief.

 

So now it‘s all just finding their way around San Diego, with Max‘s help. It‘s pulling scams like they used to back in Indiana. They have to provide for themselves some way. It‘s helping Mr Mayfield with repairs around the house when he is off work, or even completing these repairs when he has to be at the bar. It‘s waking up in the morning on the living room floor, checking if they‘re all still there; That‘s just one of these things you get used to sleeping out in the open. He rarely ever has to check for Mike, of course, since he can almost always feel him snuggled up against his side, with his breath leaving a wet stain on Will‘s neck.

 

As for Max, she sleeps on the floor too, even if her pa offered to make one of his two rooms her own. Out of solidarity. Sleeping bags as mattresses aren‘t even that bad, especially when they can use all their blankets to pad them with. It‘s too warm to cover up at night anyways.

 

* * *

 

Will‘s limp is pretty convincing. At least, that‘s what Mike says, which makes Will beam with pride in turn. He might try to become an actor later on. Well, no, that‘s too far fetched, but the fact of the matter is, his limp _is_ convincing.

 

Pretending to be exhausted isn‘t really a thing out here where the sun hits Will with all its force. Being a bit sweaty, a bit dehydrated, all that helps with raising pity. Max and Mike keep at a distance, far enough not to look like they somehow belong with Will, but close enough to step in if things go wrong. But it‘s not like Will has to do a lot. All he really does is limping down a busy street, holding his cap out in front of him, and the Cents basically fly into it from women‘s purses, under constant exclamations of „You poor thing!“, or „Get yourself something to drink.“

 

Which is something the three of them do after maybe half an hour of doing this. A cold can of Coca Cola for each of them. Will savors it to the fullest. The last time he had Coke was back in Hawkins, and when his pa found out he had spent his meager allowance on that, he had received a few more scars. This had also marked the end of his 5 Cents a month.

 

„You know, we should get a can for El too.“ Max offers. „I think she‘s never had anything like this before.“

 

„Right.“ Will nods. So far, El has never come with them out on the streets. She had basically jumped at every sound on the way to Mr Mayfield‘s house, so they do their best to keep her away from this. It‘s just too much for her, and even if it wasn‘t, Will isn‘t sure if Hopper would let her out of his sight for a second. „We got the whole day ahead of us. Let‘s see how much we can make.“

 

Seated on a bench between his friends, Will leans back and enjoys the sun. After a week of this, he has overcome his fear of sunburn. Looking in the mirror, he sometimes thinks he‘s not quite as pale as he used to be just a few days back. Neither is Mike. Although he is still pretty much white as limestone.

 

Speaking of Mike. „Wheeler, it‘s your turn now.“ Max says harshly. „Time to work for your money.“

 

„That an order?“ Mike sighs with serenely closed eyes.

 

„You bet your ass. This is my town. Better get used to it.“

 

„So...“ Mike grins. „That means you‘d follow _my_ orders if this was Indy? Damn, Will you were right about going back.“

 

Max snorts indignantly. „My town is wherever I am. So you better get out there and fulfill your duties.“

 

After draining his bright red can, Mike shrugs, probably deciding it‘s not worth arguing since he planned on being the injured boy for a while anyways. „Yes, ma‘am.“

 

* * *

 

The sound of news on the radio greets Will when he comes into the living room that night after a particularly successful day out on the streets. 2 Dollars for each, him, Mike and Max. That‘s not too bad. It must be the people‘s pre-Christmas generosity, since they relied solely on feigning injuries and good old begging today. A small smile tugs on his lips, but is wiped away when he hears the newsreader.

 

„ _...terrible crimes have been commented on by Colorado Attorney General Hinkley as ‚the most vile and despicable acts of violence his state has ever seen‘. They will be met with swift justice. The previously undocumented settlement named ‚Heaven‘s Hill‘ was raided by joint forces of Colorado State Patrol and the FBI after an anonymous letter exposed the terrible events in the woods of Colorado and disclosed the location of this settlement to local police. Martin Brenner, a former army minister, will be charged with at least eight accounts of murder, as the bodies of eight children have been discovered underneath his house and the woods surrounding ‚Heaven‘s Hill‘. Brenner's own claims, however, indicate that there may be more bodies to be found. Director of FBI, John Edgar Hoover, called the pride Brenner takes in the murders ‚disgusting‘. If convicted, Brenner, who was diagnosed as a schizophrenic with severe homosexual tendencies, will face death by hanging. The around fifty adults he gathered around him as his sect remain under arrest as well, since Brenner apparently committed his murders in public, or at least announced them to his parish.“_

 

Will suddenly finds Mike staring at him with wide eyes, before his gaze shifts over to El, who is seated next to Hopper, holding on to him tight enough to almost tear a hole in his shirt. Hopper‘s face is cold and unmoving as stone. So is Max‘s. Her pa shakes his head, but without really registering the tension in the room. Or maybe he is misinterpreting it, because he sighs „That‘s nothing you children should hear.“, before getting up and switching off the radio for the night.

 

If he only knew. Of course it‘s nothing children should hear. But much less it‘s something children should see or live through. That‘s exactly what happened, though. No one really seems hell bent on telling Mr Mayfield that, and perhaps it‘s for the better.

 

With some interest, Will watches as Max offers a can of Coke to El, who takes it, and after fumbling with the seal for a while, nips on it with utter fascination. She calms rather quickly after that, with Hopper shooting Max a grateful gaze. Will wishes a can of sugary water could have such an effect on him too.

 

„Not eight. Ten kids.“ Mike whispers to him as they settle down in their regular corner behind the couch where no one can see them without turning their head around.

 

„Hm?“ Will replies, snapped back to reality by Mike‘s words.

 

„Ten kids.“ he repeats. „They found eight so far, but it‘s gotta be ten. He even admitted it himself. She would've been eleven.“

 

Will‘s stomach flips uncomfortably, and he groans „It‘s over. Can we not talk about it?“

 

„Right.“ Mike agrees. „It‘s over for good. We‘re safe. It‘s a good place, hm?“

 

„It‘s okay.“ Will mumbles. „Better than Indy.“

 

„Better than trains all day long.“ Mike goes on. „But we‘re not gonna stay forever.“

 

„No?“ A faint glimpse of hope rises up in Will‘s chest. Not because there is any reason to feel hopeful, but because of the certainty with which Mike speaks. „You still think there‘s a chance?“

 

„Hey, worst case we just post a message in a newspaper and hope Jonathan or someone who knows him sees it. I mean a large paper. LA Times, or something.“

 

„And what‘s that gonna cost?“ Will half-laughs, unsure if Mike is being serious.

 

„Just saying, we‘re gonna find him, no matter what.“

 

Will sighs, burying his face in the crook of his friend‘s neck as a few impossibly small tears trickle from his eyes. If Mike says that a few more times, he might actually believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because they all got to adapt to the city again. BTW, isn't it weird how I announced romantic Byler by Chapter 7 and still didn't pull through with it? Well, maybe that's gonna change tomorrow.


	17. Christmas Miracles (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this... is this too fluffy? I don't know, I just think they deserve some fluff after all this shit that happened.

It must be the middle of the night when Will wakes. He can‘t make out what time exactly, because Mr Mayfield doesn‘t own any clock other than his pocket watch. Neither does Hopper. From the window of the living room he can‘t see the moon, but judging from the white light flooding the otherwise unlit, unpaved street, it must be a full one, or close. When they arrived in San Diego, there wasn‘t a moon to speak of visible, that‘s how long Will has lived here.

 

The room feels stuffy from five people radiating even more heat than the December sun casts down on San Diego during the days. So, Will reckons fresh air might be good for him. He takes a look at his friends. Hopper spread out on the couch. Max and El wrapped around each other on a pile of sleeping bags and blankets. Mike, now alone for the first time tonight. All sleeping soundly. And noisily in the cases of Hopper and Mike.

 

Will feels he can hardly breathe anymore in here. Quickly, but quietly as not to wake anyone up, he slips into his old, adult-sized shoes. As usual, they all but dangle from his feet, but he is used to it by now. The days when he used to trip over them are long gone. Will doesn‘t actually plan on going far. Fresh air is fresh air. Will can‘t even put his finger on why he put on his shoes. The front porch is more than enough for a bit of relief.

 

Actually, it might even be better than the more populated areas of San Diego, where cars paint the walls of buildings black with their exhausts and cause people to cough without ever getting to breathe. No, for all its shabbiness and run-down glory, this part of the city is peaceful at night. There are no people, no cars, not even stray dogs from what Will can see. Half of the houses around here are uninhabited, so that might be one reason.

 

Will just sits down on the wooden porch, taking a deep breath. Then another. Then another. From here the moon is visible, and it looks like Will was right with his assumption. It‘s a beautiful, pearly-white full moon, hanging low against the black sky. Far away from the city lights, every last little star is visible. A weird sense of peace, something he can‘t remember ever experiencing, overcomes Will.

 

They‘re here right now. Hopper, Max, El... Mike. They‘re all here. His friends. His best friend. Jonathan isn‘t, but that doesn‘t mean Will is alone by a long shot. And wasn‘t that his greatest fear in the first place? Being alone? Knowing that he‘s never going to experience this hell again, he leans against the house. A small spider crawls down from there across his face, until he catches it with two fingers. He used to be scared of spiders. The days spent in freight cars sort of fixed that, and Will even smiles to himself as he sets the tiny animal down next to himself. A second spider joins it. Good. They‘re not alone either.

 

„Hey.“

 

Will jumps at the sound of Mike‘s whisper. He finds his friend scowling down at him from the open door. How he managed to open it without causing it to creak, Will has no idea.

 

„I thought you‘d left me.“

 

„Don‘t be stupid.“ Will sighs, returning his gaze to the sand trail that is the street. „I‘d never.“

 

„Yeah, I know. I know.“ Mike groans, stretching his arms so that his joints crack. Max hates the sound. She claims it makes he sick to the bone, but what can Mike do about it? „What‘re you up to?“

 

„Just some fresh air.“ Will shrugs. „Five people in a room... and the heat...“

 

„I know.“ Mike repeats. „Stinks in there, huh?“

 

„Yeah. And now it stinks out here. You should really wash yourself, Wheeler.“ Will jokes.

 

Something like dry laughter escapes Mike. „If you just wanted to come out here, why‘d you put on your shoes?“

 

Will takes a look down his legs, pants rolled up five times to fit him, shoes appearing gigantic on his feet. „Dunno.“ he admits, and adds with a gaze at Mike‘s clad feed „Why‘d you put on yours?“

 

„No idea.“ Mike bites his lip. „Wanna go for a walk?“

 

„Absolutely.“ Will breathes out. „Where?“

 

Mike grins down on him, offering his hand to help Will get up. „Follow me.“

 

* * *

 

They‘re not running tonight. It might be their usual means of going places, but there is no hurry right now, and having both just woken up, they‘re not eager to exhaust themselves at the moment. Mike drags Will along by the hand for quite a while. Far enough for him to lose track of where they‘re going a few times. They‘re both adept at memorizing places and streets, but they just don‘t know San Diego like they know Indianapolis after just two weeks of living here.

 

„Hey, I don‘t wanna get lost.“ he complains.

 

„We‘re not gonna.“ Mike snaps at him. „Just keep track of your surroundings. Remember what I taught you.“ It‘s clear he is in his element here like he never was since they left Indiana. Mike is a city boy through and through. He never would admit it, but Will suspects their long trip through flat countryside, woods, and deserts has taken a toll on him in a way, and only now he‘s back in a place where he can feel safe. Backalleys, dirt roads between old brick buildings, these are his home. He understands the dynamics of those places like no one else does, so Will just tags along and allows Mike to lead him.

 

That is, until they reach an area Will feels slightly familiar with. Of course. It‘s just been three days since they came across this street. It just looked so radically different in the light of day. Too different for him to recognize it by moonlight at first.

 

„I know where we‘re going.“ he proclaims with a small sense of pride. If he hadn‘t recognized the street, he could go by smell anyways. The salty scent of the ocean now reaches him. Will wonders what it looks like at night.

 

With the evening sunlight painting the water orange, it was an imposing sight to begin with. but as it turns out, now it‘s even more magnificent. Better than during the day, because literally no one is here. It‘s all just dark, peaceful water reflecting the stars and moon, completely devoid of people. White sand tinged in white light. The only sound out here is the soft murmuring of small waves. There might be the occasional rattling of an engine somewhere in the distance, but it‘s rare, unimportant. It‘s quiet enough for Will to hear his own slow breath, as well as Mike‘s.

 

„Didn‘t think I‘d ever see the ocean, y‘know.“ his friend points out. „Didn‘t think I‘d enjoy it.“

 

„It‘s better at night.“ Will takes it all in, stunned and almost unable to move due to the sheer beauty. Not that he knows a lot about beauty. Sometimes he even thinks of Mike as beautiful, and that‘s absolutely ridiculous. At least it is when Will thinks about it long enough, because he‘s pretty sure boys aren‘t supposed to feel this way about boys.

 

„Yeah. It‘s nice being alone sometimes.“ Mike agrees. He nonchalantly proceeds to tug off his shoes and socks, discarding them in the sand, and rolling up his pants even further, up to his knees. It causes Will a heavy sigh, but also a slightly giddy feeling. He does the same, with some discomfort. Rolling up his pants is about as bad to him as rolling up his sleeves. Not an inch of his body that‘s spared from scars. Mike obviously sees them. He doesn‘t say a thing, only letting Will know it‘s okay by giving a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. The white sand is warm and tingly between his toes, though, and Will can‘t say he doesn‘t enjoy it.

 

Will leaves his shoes right next to Mike‘s, and then they just walk in silence. Towards the water, into the tiny waves until the cooling water reaches up to Will‘s ankles and the scent of brine and seaweed lingers in his nostrils. At every little move, Will's feet sink into the wet sand a little deeper. Watching the full moon swimming in a sea of black, surrounded by thousands of little lights that sparkle and twinkle, he actually dares to feel something like tranquility. This place isn‘t too bad. Maybe their journey was supposed to end here.

 

He doesn‘t even register Mike‘s arm snaking around his waist at first. „We‘ve not given up.“ Mike whispers. „Don‘t ever think that, okay?“ He never gets tired of telling Will that. Every morning after getting up. Every night before going to sleep.

 

„Hm. Yeah.“ Will nods, unconvinced, because he pretty much _has_ given up. He was wrong about that a week ago. Mike repeating his reassurances does nothing for him. He feels better, more settled and grounded, when he doesn‘t have to think about Jonathan. When Mike doesn‘t mention the topic.

 

„Just... just don‘t leave.“

 

„I wouldn‘t.“ Averting his gaze from the water, Will inspects Mike, who is now raising an eyebrow.

 

„You talked about going back to Indiana.“

 

„Yeah, but I wouldn‘t have.“ Will defends. „I was just having a shit day.“

 

Mike‘s fingernails dig into Will‘s side as he laughs. „We‘ve had too many of these, huh? Time to cheer up, Byers.“

 

„Cheer up?“ Now it‘s Will‘s turn to raise an eyebrow. „I don‘t know if I can.“ How would he? It‘s not like turning on a light switch and suddenly the world seems bright again. Yes, San Diego is an okay place to live, and Will can cope with staying here, but he doesn‘t have to bear it with a whistle and a grin.

 

„Let me try something?“ Mike offers.

 

And like that, Will‘s heart makes a small leap. Try something? _Yes please_ , he thinks, _try whatever you want!_ He closes his eyes in nervous anticipation. But whatever Will expected Mike to do, this isn‘t it. His grip on Will‘s waist tightens to a point where it‘s just short of painful, and a second later, without warning, the fingers of Mike‘s free hand dart against Will‘s stomach.

 

He suddenly feels what little wind he had left knocked out of him, as Mike all but tackles him to the ground, tickling at his stomach relentlessly. Will doesn‘t even get the time to be glad he didn‘t land in the water as his entire body curls up and flexes out of control under Mike‘s fingers. God, it doesn‘t even stop when Will begins giggling, gargling, and hissing through his teeth. Shrinking into a tiny ball, he desperately tries to wiggle away. „Please!“ he begs, entirely out of breath and with tears welling up in his eyes. „M-Mike! Stop!“

 

Will can‘t remember ever being tickled. Maybe in his early childhood, who knows? Anyways, up until now he had no idea what that actually feels like. Weirdly, it‘s the absolute worst and the absolute best thing he‘s ever felt in his entire life. It‘s panic and fun at the same time. Desperately pleading with Mike to stop, he actually wishes it could go on forever, just for the sake of being so close to his best friend.

 

It takes so long, and finally, in desperation, Will makes a jump for it. He mirrors what Mike is doing with shaky hands, and marvels at how fast his friend collapses in the sand, giggling. „You‘re gonna get it now!“ he growls. And Mike does get it. Will makes sure the payback Mike receives in memorable. He has no idea how to actually tickle someone, but the way he does it seems to work just fine. Only that Mike is fighting way harder than Will did.

 

It doesn‘t take him nearly as long to come back up, wrestle Will down and continue the assault on his sides. It‘s really out of pure willpower that Will manages to roll them over, hold Mike down with one arm, and go on tickling with his free hand. Which is demanding task, because Mike is _strong_.

 

So, a minute later, Will is completely exhausted and unable to even kneel over Mike anymore. His entire body feels like pudding, so relieved and light, but hard to coordinate, when he lands on his back next to Mike. The sand is still warm against his back from sunlight when he drops, lies down, and casts his gaze up at the many little stars. The only thing louder than his own breathing is Mike‘s, that hitches from time to time, still riddled with small giggles. „Merry Christmas.“ he presses out.

 

„W-what?“ Will rasps.

 

„I t-think it‘s past midnight.“ Mike laughs, coughing a little. „It‘s Christmas.“

 

Oh, right. When they went to sleep it was Christmas Eve. It must be the 25th by now. „Merry Christmas, Mike.“ Will echoes. Their hands find each other‘s in the sand without either of them having to look. The stars seem a little brighter like that. „Was that my present?“

 

Erratic breathing finally dying down, Mike swallows audibly. „Kinda. I think. You feeling better?“

 

„Yeah.“ Will admits. _Better_ maybe isn‘t the best word to describe it. _Clean_. That‘s it. Finally drained of all these terrible feelings, without having to block them off to find relief. Maybe for good. Perhaps just for the moment. „You?“

 

„Please.“ Mike snorts weakly. „I didn‘t feel bad in the first place.“

 

„Yes you did.“

 

„You‘re right.“ Mike inches closer ever so slowly. „Because you felt bad.“

 

Will comes closer to Mike too. He smells like an ashtray. Will likes his scent; he is used to it from weeks of sleeping huddled under a blanket with him. Tentatively, he reaches over to check for something. „You got sand in your hair.“ What? Why did he do that? Why did he just _say_ that?

 

„I got sand in my clothes.“ Mike notes.

 

„Y-yeah, me too. You wanna go back to the house?“

 

„No.“

 

„Me neither.“ Will turns his gaze away from the stars, only to find Mike already looking at him, a weird, uncertain expression adorning his soft features. When did he come so close? There can‘t be more than an inch between their noses now. Even less when Mike moves yet again.

 

„It‘s Christmas.“ Mike remarks once more. For whatever reason, this has Will‘s heart in his throat, in the best way imaginable. Actually, he never wants his heart anywhere else than right there behind his Adam‘s apple, where he can feel its pounding in the most exhilarating way.

 

„Y-you said that before.“ Will mumbles nervously.

 

„Yeah... but... I just though maybe you should make a wish.“ Mike shrugs, his tear-stained cheeks twitching in a small smile. „Maybe that‘s what we need.“

 

Will bites his lip. Of course he know what he‘d wish for, what he wants more than anything. And still, there‘s an equally strong urge to wish for something entirely different, and this urge his seriously fighting his resolution. „Think I can make two wishes?“

 

„You‘ve been a good boy this year.“ Mike snickers. „I think Santa won‘t mind. Just don‘t tell me what you wish for, or it won‘t come true.“

 

Will nods, closing his eyes. If he doesn‘t tell Mike his wish, how is it ever going to come true? Well, maybe it‘s worth a shot. Jonathan is first, of course. Will silently pleads with whoever might be out there, Santa, Jesus, Superman, to just give him a hint. He can‘t do more than hope this is enough.

 

His second wish is somewhat harder to articulate. Will still wants _something_. Something he doesn‘t know how to put in words. It‘s got something to do with Mike, with this place and the way they‘re so close but not close enough. With the way Will feels warm all over, but also hopes Mike somehow could make him feel even warmer.

 

And for a long while, Will doesn‘t even dare moving. Not until hot breath suddenly trickles along his face. Without further warning, something warm, incredibly soft and tingly touches his dry lips. Like that his eyes snap open wide, but all Will can see is part of Mike‘s pale face, right where his forehead meets his black hairline, in the moonlight. He leans into him, presses the two of them together just to keep this all-consuming moment a little bit longer.

 

And Mike‘s lips really linger on his for a short while. The best few seconds of his life. The longest and shortest moment he has ever lived through. His thoughts only return to him once it‘s over. _Oh_ , an inner voice says somewhere in the back of his mind, _that‘s what I wanted all along_. The kiss leaves a taste of gumdrops and cigarette ash.

 

„Did you make your wishes?“ Mike breathes.

 

„I... I t-think s-so.“ Will stutters. He is pretty sure. And one of them even came true in an instant. It‘s incredible how much brighter the stars shine down on him now. How he really feels even warmer than before.

 

„And was this okay?“

 

„Yeah.“ Will‘s strained muscles wobble when he lunges sideways to wrap himself around Mike. A slightly stronger than usual wave sends cool ocean water up their legs, until it even reaches their knees and rolled up pants.

 

„Ew!“ Mike laughs, and Will giggles against the skin of his cheek. He only now realizes how much sand actually has ended up under his clothes, in his pockets, basically everywhere. Will can‘t bring himself to care about how scratchy this feels.

 

„Mike?“

 

„Hm?“

 

„Y-you... you wanna try again?“ Turns out, Mike wants exactly that. And just because Will knows what‘s about to come this time, that doesn‘t mean it‘s any less exciting. If Will had to do one thing for the rest of his life, it would be this. Sighing into clumsy kisses, stretching out in the warm sand with just his favorite person in the entire world, listening to the saltwater sweeping up and down the beach.

 

„Merry Christmas.“ Mike murmurs yet again when they break apart for the second time.

 

Well, he might be right. It might be a Merry Christmas. One of Will‘s wishes has come true already, after all. Could Christmas miracles actually be a thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is a 2-parter. Because luck just has to be on Will's side for once.
> 
> Fun Fact: I cheated a little. 1948 saw its last full moon on December 16th, not 25th.


	18. Christmas Miracles (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, I've been inactive for FAR TOO LONG!  
> No excuse. Enjoy!

Will can‘t help but marvel at how a few minutes can change everything. Not reality, but how you see reality, and how you experience it. By the 27th, his new normal hasn‘t changed. It‘s just that, a new normal. Going out on the streets, making money like he used to back in Indy. Coming home a bit sore, a bit exhausted, sweaty and tired, always with a few more Cents, or even a few more Dollars tugged away in his newsy cap. So really, nothing out of the ordinary.

 

But the feeling is just so different, like floating on air or being seated on one of these white fluffy clouds that can only ever exist in California, hanging low above the ocean. Everything is just so easy for these two days that feel like an eternity. A bit of misfortune, a small failure, these things can‘t bother Will anymore. Not when Mike tells him it‘s okay, with his usual grin and in quiet, private moments with a tiny little peck.

 

They‘re alive and together right now, and that‘s all that seems to count most of the time. Maybe it‘s Mike‘s mere presence, maybe it‘s him making sure that Will doesn‘t think too much. He keeps them all very busy, be it with their usual scams, games of pretend, or with carefully showing El around, always supervised by Hopper of course.

 

Will sometimes wonders how no one has noticed anything so far. Granted, they‘re all used to him and Mike sleeping together anyways, but he can absolutely not convince himself they could ever fool Max. Whenever they‘re out on the streets it‘s never more than an hour in between Mike saying something in the lines of „Can I talk to you alone?“ and then leading Will off to some alley where they can be sure they‘re not observed by anyone.

 

A small kiss later they‘re back out in the open. It‘s easier when El is with them. Max is always so preoccupied with her, she hardly even pays attention to the boys being gone. The same goes for Hopper.

 

* * *

 

It‘s no surprise that Will and Mike find the bearded man and the redhead seated next to El on a bench one of these days, talking her through the delicate process of peeling an orange with a knife. According to Max, the season for oranges has just started, and they should be best by January or February. So far Will has found them rather bitter tasting, but El absolutely loves the taste.

 

„Careful.“ Hopper instructs. „Don‘t wanna cut your finger.“

 

„Careful. Yeah.“ El confirms. She goes on to interrupt her peeling to lick some of the juice off her fingers. „Sticky.“ she muses.

 

„Yeah.“ Mike laughs. „I hate having that on my fingers.“ Will wishes he hadn‘t said anything because he‘s sure his cheeks are still glowing from what the two of them did just minutes ago. Too much attention is the last thing he needs.

 

„You‘re just a sissy, Wheeler.“ Max quips. „Ooh, some sticky juice got on my fingers, better call a doctor!“

 

„Did I say anything about calling a doctor? I just don‘t like it, okay?“ Mike turns red immediately, much to Max‘s amusement. „Bet there‘s some things you don‘t like, Mayfield. Wanna wake up and find a spider in your mouth tomorrow? I‘m gonna make that happen if you-“

 

„Oh shut it, Wheeler.“ Hopper barks. „Here. Drink. Have the whole can, just be quiet.“ He hands over a can of coke, probably from the store right behind them. El giggles a bit at Mike roughly gripping the can, putting a dent in it.

 

_Click!_

 

Will‘s head snaps around at that sound. It‘s a busy street, people are walking, chattering, cars are driving by. But that click is perfectly audible. So is the overly enthusiastic voice of the man with the camera right in front of them. „Yes! Perfect!“

 

This has Hopper on his feet quicker than Will thought possible. Fury distorts is face. „Hey! What‘s this shit?“ One leap forwards later his bear paws have a firm grip on the photographer‘s collar. The camera is hanging from a leather strap around his neck. „Why are you taking photos?“

 

Will gets a good view of the stranger‘s face now. The hair he is lacking on his head is adorning his face in a thick, dark beard that‘s split by a nervous, almost apologetic grin. „Good man, I never meant to invade your privacy.“

 

„Oh yeah?“ Hopper hisses. „Then ask me before pointing a camera and me and my- uh, these kids.“

 

„Sir, I‘m just a photographer and-“

 

„Yeah, I got that much. What‘s your name?“ Bringing his face close, Hopper makes an absolutely intimidating impression.

 

„B-Bauman. Murray Bauman.“ the photographer stammers.

 

„Really.“ Hopper thinks for a second. „Give me that film.“

 

That demand has Murray Bauman really defensive all of a sudden. There‘s even a hint of annoyance in his voice. „Come on, what‘s a single photo gonna do? There‘s so much valuable material on that film, I can‘t lose it. I just can‘t!“

 

„Like I care for your valuable material.“ Hopper laughs darkly. „Give it here, or I‘m gonna take it. That‘s gonna be the end of your camera.“

 

„Listen...“ Bauman pleads. „I just took your photo because it‘d fit so wonderfully. I can promise you not to use it. I‘m gonna... I‘m gonna sign a contract if necessary.“

 

„Use it for what?“ Hopper asks with oozing suspicion.

 

„Will you let me go?“ the other man sighs. „Please, I promise you‘re gonna understand if I show you.“

 

Hopper does so, not even reluctantly. He probably figures at almost two heads taller he is strong and fast enough to keep Bauman from running even without a death grip on his shirt. Will watches with greatest interest as the photographer pulls out a thick envelope from his leather bag. „What‘s this?“

 

„Not the first time this happened.“ Bauman shrugs. „That‘s why I always bring my copies.“

 

„Copies?“ Hopper quirks an eyebrow. „Of what.“

 

„Photos. Obviously. For a book. Look...“ He hands Hopper a bunch of black and white photographs. „It‘s gonna be called _‚The Californians‘_. I want to document the lives of ordinary people.“ In an instant, his enthusiasm is back. „When people think of California, they think of L.A.. Hollywood, movie stars, makeup, beaches. They think of glamour. But that‘s just a fraction of it. One percent that sticks out from all these people who got nothing, who are missing out on their share.“

 

„Okay...“ Hopper shifts through the photos rather disinterestedly. „So you think we‘re ordinary people? With ordinary lives?“

 

„A-aren‘t you?“ Bauman asks. „You look ordinary.“

 

For the first time, Hopper shows something like a smile. It‘s more directed at El than at the photographer, though. „Good. Ordinary people. Yeah, that‘s good to know. Wanna take a look, kids?“ He splits the stack of photos and gives them out to all four kids.

 

If Hopper wasn‘t interested, Will sure is. He gets why their guardian reacted the way he did. They went through a lot since Indianapolis. A police officer died. Hell, they indirectly made it into international news with what they pulled off in Colorado. Paranoia isn‘t necessarily a bad thing. At least Bauman didn‘t take a photo of him and Mike...

 

The first copy Will eyes shows a bus, stopped at an intersection, photographed from the side. People with hollow faces, white in front, black in the back. Most of them are staring straight ahead. The next one portrays a family, black people, seated on the hood of an old but well maintained car in an open field. None of them are smiling. It‘s more like work and hardship are permanently burned into their faces. Even in those of the boy, about Will‘s age, and his younger sister.

 

This all seems to be a mix of both snapshots taken out of the blue and some staged photographs. For example, the next one shows people working in a field. They probably don‘t even know they were photographed, or that they might end up in a book.

 

Will quickly shifts through the remaining photos. A young man leaning against a battered, rusted motorcycle, in the middle of lighting a cigarette. A wrinkled man behind the counter of a hardware store. A pair of legs sticking out from underneath a pickup truck, with tools and dirty rags scattered on the ground. A group of children playing with-

 

Will‘s breath stops. His heart stops. The world around him stops. It all lies in silence all of a sudden. The cars, the people, the soft breeze. Nothing makes a sound anymore. Neither do Will‘s heavy footsteps as he stumbles backwards until he flops down to the bench. A voice appears from somewhere far away. „Hey, they‘re copies, but copies are expensive.“

 

It makes Will realize he has dropped the photos. Miraculously, only one has remained between his numb fingers. One he brushed aside all too casually at first. An old motorcycle in terrible condition. A young man in a torn leather jacket, his hand shielding the lighter and cigarette against the wind. His shoulders are pulled up, eyes narrowed. He‘s older. Older and taller than Will has ever seen him. „Max?“ he rasps out.

 

Max is by his side in an instant. Her words finally break up the blurry silence around Will. „Holy shit.“

 

Will just keeps staring at the photos, despite the sudden wave of noise overwhelming him. „I-I‘m not crazy, right?“

 

„No.“ Max breathes.

 

„H-how?“

 

„How what?“ Mike suddenly demands, annoyed. It‘s clear he feels like he‘s missing out on something.

 

„Kid, what is it?“ Hopper speaks up.

 

Will can‘t say it. He feels if he does this moment might vanish. Bauman and the photo could disappear into thin air. It could all turn out to be a illusion, merely here to torment him. Max is the one to inform the rest of the group. „The photo. It‘s- it‘s him.“

 

„Him, as in...“ Mike says slowly, eyes blowing up to impossibly wide balloons. „No way.“

 

Hopper picks up on it too, a bit slower than Mike. „Kid, are you sure? I mean, what are the odds.“

 

„Sorry.“ Murray Bauman pipes up, still busy collecting the scattered photos from the dry ground. „What‘s this about?“

 

Will can finally bring himself to move. Showing Bauman the photo he croaks „That‘s my brother. I-I‘ve been l-looking for him.“

 

„Where‘d you take that photo?“ Hopper calmly asks.

 

Bauman wants to answer, but Will interrupts him upon seeing the handwritten note on the backside. „This says _November 1948, Mariposa_.

 

„That‘s right.“ the photographer confirms. „I was up there around Yosemite a month back. And you‘re really sure it‘s him?“

 

Will gets where Bauman is coming from. Jonathan‘s face is half hidden by his hand, but if Will and Max both confirm it. Will, who has known him all his life. Max, who knows what Jonathan looked like just half a year ago. They can‘t both be wrong. „We‘re sure.“ Max says sternly.

 

„What a story! What a story!“ Bauman gasps. „Deserving of its own book, even!“

 

„Forget it.“ Hopper shakes his head. „It‘s a copy, right?“

 

„Yes.“

 

„We get to keep it, you get to keep your film. That okay with you?“

 

* * *

 

They have never been closer to their final goal. Will wants to go to sleep with nothing but that knowledge. Right now isn‘t the time to think about the fact that this might tear apart their group. It‘s not the time to think about how Mike is definitely going to follow Will to Mariposa. How Max is probably going to have to stay with her father. How El won‘t want to leave her. How Hopper won‘t want to leave El.

 

Well, they haven‘t even talked to Mr Mayfield yet. He won‘t be home before they‘re all asleep in his living room, so the first chance they‘ll get to talk to him will be in the morning.

 

Will folds up their map of California for the final time that night. Hopefully the final time. It‘s just that he felt the need to see it one more time. They marked the town called Mariposa with pencil earlier today, after their encounter with the eccentric photographer. With Hopper snoring on the couch, El and Max cuddled up in front of the radio, and moonlight pouring in through the cracked window, it‘s just him and Mike right now.

 

„It‘s still gonna be there in the morning, y‘know. Mariposa.“ Mike quips.

 

„I know... I know...“ Will sighs, leaning into his friend.

 

„Aren‘t you tired?“

 

„No.“ That‘s a lie. Will knows he‘s going to drop dead any minute now. It‘s also why he doesn‘t put up a fight when Mike drags him away from the small table, towards their corner. The moment he lies down on top of their laid out sleeping bag, with Mike‘s hand circling against of his back, he feels sleep rushing towards him on a wave of exhaustion. „You‘re with me?“ Will yawns.

 

„Like I‘m gonna leave you alone.“ Mike laughs quietly. „We‘ll be gone before the new year, okay?“

 

„Before the new year.“ Will confirms. His heavy head comes to a rest on Mike‘s shoulder.

 

Only for a second, though, because Mike gently lifts him up again, grinning. „Hey, forgot something?“

 

Will smiles wearily. Their short kiss doesn‘t even make a sound. „Goodnight.“

 

„Yeah.“ Mike mumbles. „Goodnight.“

 

And still, Will fights sleep for a few more minutes, because this might turn out to be some crazy trick. One more kick in the guts fate is throwing at him. They could be wrong. They could be too late. If Will has learned anything from the past two and a half years, it‘s that luck is rarely on his side.

 

As if he can read minds, Mike whispers „Hey, he‘s got a bike. That‘s totally swell.“

 

It's all gonna be okay. Because he wished for it to be okay on Christmas, and that's got to count for something. Mike is living proof that one wish already came true. Somehow, that‘s all Will needs to finally find rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, before you come screaming "DEUS EX MACHINA! FUCK YOU!", let me explain.
> 
> I know this world isn't a nice place. Things go from bad to worse and they rarely get better. I just think the Universe has done too much cruel shit to Will in this story, and it just HAS to make up for it.
> 
> btw, Murray's role in this is inspired by photographer Robert Frank, who released his book 'The Americans' in 1958.
> 
> Also, I'd say we still got about 8 chapters left with this fic. But I also know myself, so it might turn out a bit more than that.


	19. One Final Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, I know. But it's just one of those that's supposed to fill a gap.

„I‘m going with them, pa.“

 

„I know, Max. I know, but-“

 

„There‘s no _but!_ “ Max huffs. Will admires her. He really does. It‘s unbelievable how she makes a stand against her father for the sake of sticking with the group. The group that would break apart if Mr Mayfield tried to keep her here. Will can see it in El‘s eyes; she understands what‘s going on, and she sure as hell won‘t leave Max.

 

„Maxine, let me finish!“ Frank Mayfield hollers, making the kids flinch at the sudden outburst. He usually is such a quiet man, and the way he shouts makes it clear that he‘s had enough after a good ten minutes of arguing about this back and forth. Hopper has kept his mouth shut so far. He‘s got no say in this, though Will is sure he wouldn‘t force Max back to Mr Mayfield if she decided to just sneak out in the dead of night.

 

Surprisingly, Max actually listens when her father goes on. „I told you I know you‘re going. Can‘t do anything about it, can I?“

 

„No.“ A stubborn scowl plastering her face, Max crosses her arms.

 

„Then there‘s some things we have to talk about.“ Mr Mayfield clears his throat. „I‘d come with you, but... Max, what if your mother comes looking for you here?“

 

„Yeah.“ Max sighs. „I figured.“

 

„Look, I‘m gonna try to let her know you‘re okay. I‘ll figure something out. I mean, would Neil even care? He didn‘t even come after you.“

 

„I don‘t know.“

 

„I‘m gonna figure it out.“ Mr Mayfield repeats. „She just deserves to know. It‘s been weeks, she must be worried sick.“

 

„But you let me go with them?“ Max quickly changes back to their original topic.

 

„I got a few conditions.“ Frank Mayfield turns to Hopper. „Jim, can you promise me no more freight trains?“

 

„What about hitchhiking?“ Hopper muses. „Can‘t walk up there.“

 

„Guess you can handle yourself with that. But you don‘t have to.“ Mr Mayfield shrugs. „Look, you could take a train, I mean a passenger train, to San José and a bus from there to wherever you have to go after.“

 

„Should be doable with the money we got.“ Hopper nods. None of them ever disclosed to Max‘s father what they actually do for a living.

 

„I‘m gonna contribute. Got a few Dollars stashed away.“

 

Hopper doesn‘t even make an attempt at declining the offer. He‘s not the kind of person who‘d say no to money out of pure courtesy. That‘s not something they can afford. Instead the man nods once more. „Then it‘s gonna be what, two or three days to get there?“

 

Anxiousness bubbles up in Will‘s stomach. He shouldn‘t allow this, he knows that. It could all turn out a disappointment again. Another failure. And still, he can‘t stop the feeling this might actually be the start to the final part of their journey. Hope has led to nothing but sorrow until now, but there _must_ be and end to this eventually. It can‘t always go from bad to worse.

 

Will finds Mike grinning at him. He believes to know what his friend is thinking. Something about respect and an added layer of trust between him and Max. She‘s actually gonna stay with the group, rather than with her father. Will wants to be damned if this didn‘t end their differences once and for all.

 

„So you let me go with them?“ Max asks quietly, as if she can‘t really believe her father is relenting.

 

„Only because I trust Jim.“

 

„Not gonna disappoint you.“ Hopper promises solemnly. „We‘ll stay in contact.“

 

„As best as we can.“ Frank Mayfield confirms. „You‘re gonna need all the jackets and sleeping bags you can get. It‘s gonna be cold up there. I mean, freezing. You could have to sleep outside.“

 

„Pa, we all know how to get a fire going.“ Max sighs.

 

„Just wanted to warn you. I mean, you‘ve been through so much already on your way here, and I know you can take care of yourself, and that it‘s not that far. I know you‘re safe with Jim, but-“ Mr Mayfield‘s sudden desperate rambling is cut off by Max‘s arms closing around him.

 

* * *

 

It was a tearful goodbye, not just for Max and her father. El has taken to like Mr Mayfield a great deal, especially after he told her she‘ll always be welcome at his house. However, he also made it clear that it probably won‘t be his house for much longer, because to put it in Frank Mayfield‘s words „I‘m going where my daughter is going.“

 

Meaning, as soon as Max‘s mother knows what‘s going on, he‘ll be off. Will can‘t blame him for wanting to get out of San Diego. It‘s a warm place, sure, but he surely can make it better some place else. Down here he‘s just a plumber turned barkeeper without running water in his own home. And considering the train ride is just going to take little over twelve hours, he wouldn‘t even venture too far from his original home.

 

The group is well prepared. They‘re stuffed with everything useful they‘ve been carrying since Indianapolis. Their sleeping bags, blankets, warm jackets, all things they‘re going to need in the cold woods of northern California. The price they paid for them is still weighing heavy on Will‘s shoulders. That‘s nothing compared to Mike, though. He used his sleeping bag out of necessity, but it couldn‘t have been more clear, when they reached California he was glad to be able to stay away from it.

 

Aside from that, they‘re equipped with vast amounts of canned food, just in case. Twelve hours to San José, from there it‘s going to be 150 miles to go. Preferably by bus, but you never know. Hopper always brings everything just in case, which has helped the little group to survive more than once.

 

A good three hours after leaving San Diego, Will is still marveling at this entirely different perspective on the railroad tracks. They got their own compartment, complete with glass door out to the corridor, nets right under the ceiling to store their heavy luggage, and padded seats. _Padded seats_. They‘re so damn comfortable and probably will be for the entirety of the ride.

 

And so there‘s nothing Will can do but watch the landscape fly by in a blur of blue skies, less and less orange, more and more green. They had a longer stop in Los Angeles a while ago, so the dry, sandy ground has turned into something darker, maybe even wet, and the amount of trees seems to be increasing by the minute. It might even be a little bit colder outside than in San Diego, but the train is likely heated, so there‘s no way of knowing.

 

„Look!“ Mike gasps some time around hour six, pointing out the window. No need to further explain. Will sees it too out in the distance; A snow covered peak.

 

„Snow.“ El says, shivering. „Don‘t like the cold.“

 

Will nods in understanding. He doesn‘t either, but El has way more reason than him to hate it. „Doesn‘t mean it‘s cold out there.“ he explains. „I‘ve read this book about Africa. Did you know there‘s this mountain pretty much in the middle of the desert, but it‘s covered in snow even in the summer?“

 

„Really?“ she gasps. „Africa... On the other side of the world.“

 

„Yep.“ Hopper nods. „South of Europe. Remember what I told you about it?“

 

„There‘s a lot of sand. Elephants. And lions, right?“ El‘s hunger for knowledge is insatiable, and though she only has a rough idea of what an elephant actually looks like from a drawing Will did for her, that doesn‘t make her less enthusiastic about it.

 

„I‘ve seen lions once, y‘know.“ Max throws in. „When I was a child-“

 

„You‘re still a child, Mayfield.“ Hopper grumbles under his breath.

 

„When I was a child.“ Max repeats pointedly. „We had this circus in San Diego. They had the lions jump through burning rings and do tricks. But they lived in cages.“

 

Those last words shut everyone up for a while. They all got their experiences with cages, and they all escaped them. Mike‘s hand finds Will‘s, but that‘s about all they dare to do in the presence of others. It causes Will a slight pang, but that‘s how it‘s got the be for the time they‘re on this train. It‘s especially hard now that _that_ special feeling is back. They talked about it back in Lincoln; Freedom.

 

Will feels free. He can go wherever he wants, do whatever he wants, and judging from Mike‘s eyes he feels it too. Except this time he‘s being honest about it. Not like all those weeks ago when he was in too much pain to feel free. Will still traces that ugly scar in Mike‘s palm with his fingers from time to time.

 

Max and El end up with their noses basically glued to the glass of the window once more mountaintops come into view. Out here the world looks just a bit more alive and a bit healthier than further south. Hopper watches them for a while, answering whatever question El may have about the landscape around them to his best ability. The whole thing visibly tires him out, though, so in the end he gruffly proclaims „I‘m going to sleep.“ before reaching for his hat and pulling it deep into his face to shield himself from the sunlight.

 

It seems just like the opportunity Mike has been itching for since they last got a chance to be alone in a quiet corner at the train station. No one‘s looking at them, and after making sure that‘s actually true, he leans over. And despite his concern, Will doesn‘t pull back when their lips finally connect for the first time in too many hours. The rattling of the metal wheels is loud enough to drown out Mike‘s mumbling voice to the others. „Sorry, couldn‘t help it.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's hoping I can wrap this up soon. I'll try to get two more chapters out this week because I'm so damn struck by the flu, so damn comfortable in my bed, and so damn motivated. idk, I guess being sick is just boring, and watching Netflix is too passive of an activity for me.


	20. The North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this was supposed to be out a few hours earlier, but that's just what happens when you stuff your face with two gigantic burgers, fries and onion rings, and wind up in a coma for 12 hours.

It‘s like Will almost forgot how much he actually hates the cold. Perhaps he didn‘t fully realize it until now because the last time he went from warm to cold it was more of a crawling process; Summer fading into fall fading into winter. That was on the streets of Indianapolis, of course.

 

It didn‘t come all at once this time either, but certainly a lot quicker. San José, where their train ride ended, was reasonably warm at maybe 60 degrees. Then their first bus ride came, and the next time Will stepped out of their means of transportation, a wave of 40 degree air crept through every little seam on his clothing, creating goosebumps on every inch of skin.

 

According to a conversation between an elderly couple he overheard on the bus, this is one of the coldest winters the area has ever seen. Usually temperatures should be well above freezing point for the most part. Will has seen worse, and it‘s still fit to make him shiver pitifully. The worst about all this is the wind.

 

They manage to catch two buses in a single day, but the way to Mariposa turns out longer than expected. The regional bus lines all take detours to the north, with stops in towns Will won‘t even remember next week, small wooden houses adorning quickly changing landscapes. Cattle everywhere.

 

It‘s amazing, a small miracle, how they stepped out of the train to find rows of palm trees along busy streets, only to end up in wide, brown-ish green grassland rolling over hilltops just a few hours later. How the palm trees made way for something larger, darker and in some cases scarier out in the far distance, just waiting to engulf the little group in its shade.

 

The bus crawls towards patches of pine trees, passing clean blue water. It would be absolutely beautiful if it wasn‘t so damn cold.

 

Will anticipated it. They knew all along it would happen, but the realization that they‘re going to have to sleep outside for at least one night is still painful. The town of Hayward isn‘t as ideal for that as larger cities. A protected area with high walls to shield them against the wind? Forget it.

 

Houses around here seem to be miles apart with dirt road snaking in between inconveniently placed hills. Though they saw a few trees on their way here, they‘re not quite there yet. The woods still lie ahead, so the group is basically out in the open.

 

It‘s pitch black already, temperatures must have dropped way below the freezing point and combined with the somewhat higher altitude of this place, it‘s enough to make Will miserable. Still, he, Mike, Max, El and Hopper are wandering this strange land in search for a place to sleep.

 

„This is pointless.“ Mike points out eventually, much to Will‘s relief.

 

„I know, kid.“ Hopper sighs wearily. „I just don‘t like this place. No matter where we sleep, we‘re gonna end up in full view once the sun rises.“

 

„Isn‘t that a war thing?“ Mike asks impatiently. „I mean, no one‘s gonna attack us here, right? And we‘ve camped by the side of the road before.“

 

„Look, Wheeler...“ Hopper audibly scratches his beard. „We could freeze to death if we stay here. Or do you see any firewood around? There‘s supposed to be a lake with some trees around it to the east, and it‘s just a mile from the next bus station. Once we‘re there, we‘ll be safe enough and we can heat up a can of beans or two. Okay? It‘s not even 8.“

 

„Really?“ Will groans. „Feels like midnight.“

 

„Sun sets before 6 PM. That‘s winter.“ Hopper answers. „All I‘m saying is, we should keep going at least two more hours before giving up. That alright with you kids?“

 

Will wants to say no, drop to the ground and close his eyes. It‘s just that walking keeps him at least somewhat warm. So he just mumbles „Okay.“ The others utter something too, and because there is no protest audible, Hopper keeps going.

 

* * *

 

Just an hour later, they find the lake. Well, they find some water at least. It‘s too overcast to really tell; The black surface doesn‘t reflect even a single star or the moon. As far as Will knows this could be a small pond, but Hopper seems satisfied, so they can finally set up their camp and build a fire.

 

Once the orange flames dance and crackle in a small clearing by the plashing water, Will decides it was all worth it. His stomach is full with a satisfying, warm meal, his limbs have returned from being stiff as boards to relatively relaxed. Mike passes him the cigarette for the third time, this time silently signaling him to keep it.

 

„Y‘know.“ his friend speaks up so everyone around the campfire can hear him. „Once we‘re in the woods, we don‘t wanna camp outside anymore. If we don‘t wanna suffer a terrible fate, that is.“ His voice has turned dark, playfully so, and Will doesn‘t quite get what he‘s about.

 

„Bears stay away from fires, Wheeler.“ Hopper grunts.

 

„I‘m not talking about bears.“ Mike whisper-speaks so that his voice is barely audible over the crackling logs that are their only source of light and warmth. „There‘s far worse things in these woods.“

 

„What‘s this, Wheeler?“ Max chuckles around the dry straw she‘s chewing on. „A ghost story?“

 

„Would you stop ruining the mood?“ Mike complains. Max only shrugs, disinterested. Before going on, Mike dramatically clears his throat. „As I was saying. Far worse things than bears. Do you know where we‘re going?“

 

„Mariposa?“ Max suggests sarcastically.

 

„Yeah. But the northern woods were Miwok territory once.“ Mike goes on as if Max‘s tone did nothing to break up the atmosphere he‘s trying to establish. „Indians. They lived there for centuries before we came, and the few survivors know the woods better than anyone else. And even after we killed them, after we destroyed entire tribes, they still tried to warn the white man.“

 

„Warn us?“ Will whispers, intentionally losing himself in the story. He finds himself enchanted by the warm glow of the fire casting light and shade on Mike‘s face.

 

„Yes.“ he nods slowly. „They knew what would happen to the people who settle there was just too terrible, even for their most hated enemies. The people who murdered their wives and children.“

 

„What‘s that?“ Will anxiously presses.

 

Another dramatic pause later, Mike whispers „The forest belongs to the Wendigo. That's where it usually hunts. But it has been seen here in the grasslands before when the winters got cold and dark.“

 

Max snorts, but doesn‘t comment for now. She just leans back, relaxed and calm, while Will can feel wave after wave of shivers running down his spine. El looks more curious than frightened, while Hopper takes a sip from his flask as if nothing happened.

 

„The Wendigo.“ Mike repeats. „It stays hidden in the shadows. It hates warmth. Starved for human flesh, with skin as white as limestone, eyes as black as the night, and a heart made of ice. At night it stalks its prey. It strikes without a warning, and it drinks your blood before tearing you apart. But that‘s not the worst part.“

 

When Mike stops talking, instead staring at Will with narrowed eyes that are oddly frightening. „What‘s the worst part?“ Will breathes.

 

„Once it gets you...“ Mike‘s voice slowly builds up. „...you‘re destined to wander the woods forever. Another Wendigo. All you‘ll ever know is hunger. And the freezing cold.“

 

That very moment the wind sends a chilling breeze over the calm water, through the campfire that flares up into the sky, and under Will‘s heavy jacket. He jumps, shrieking, only to be caught in Mike‘s arms. He burst out laughing. So does Will.

 

„I call bullshit, Wheeler.“ Max says calmly, but loud enough for them to hear over their laughter.

 

„Oh yeah?“

 

„Yeah. I‘ve read books too, y‘know.“

 

„And?“ Mike demands expectantly.

 

„And I know the Wendigo is an east coast thing. Indians round here never heard of it.“

 

Mike grits his teeth, growling. „Would you please not ruin my ghost story?“

 

„It‘s not ruined.“ Will appeases. „Congrats, I‘m scared now.“

 

This causes Mike to smirk. „Great!“ His eyes tell Will more than that. They seem to say _‚Bet it‘s gonna need an awful lot of cuddling to fix that.‘_

 

* * *

 

It‘s cold. That‘s the first thing that becomes apparent once Will realizes he has just woken up. Cold all around, except from the front. Because the cold got its perks. Like being able to share a sleeping bag. These adult sized ones are more than wide enough to envelop both Mike and Will comfortably.

 

So it‘s no surprise Will finds only darkness when he opens his eyes. But it‘s not the world around them, it‘s actually Mike‘s shirt and the fact that they‘ve crawled so deep into their sleeping bag that their heads don‘t even stick out. Looking up, past Mike‘s chin that was previously resting on his head, Will can see sunlight.

 

Day has come already, and of course that means they got to get going. They should get going as soon as they can. _Just a few more minutes_ , Will thinks, tugging his head back under Mike‘s chin. At least there is a minimum amount of warmth in this sleeping bag. It‘s all gonna be cold once they crawl outside. Plus, Mike is still asleep judging from his silence and calm breath.

 

Will grits his teeth in anguish after just a few seconds, though, because he knows if he can‘t bring up the strength to get up now, it‘s just gonna get harder with every second. They can‘t possibly wait any longer, not when they‘re so close to finally finding Jonathan. The next bus will take them right into Mariposa county, and someone there just has to know where to find him.

 

However, once Will sticks his head out the thick sleeping bag, momentarily overwhelmed by gushing cold air, he stalls in his thoughts. How could he not at the sight laid out in front of him. No, this isn‘t a pond. It most certainly is the lake Hopper spoke of last night, but nothing could have prepared Will for _this;_ Perfect, clean water, reflecting the blue sky that must have cleared up in the last couple of hours. Trees hem the banks and the slopes. More trees that Will has seen in a while, but not quite enough to make for a proper forest. It‘s still gonna take a few hours to really leave those grasslands behind.

 

Oddly, everyone else is asleep. Will can‘t remember ever waking up before Hopper. Or waking up so long after sunrise. Hell, it‘s winter, so it must be past 7 AM. „Mike!“ he hushes to his friend, shaking him carefully through the sleeping bag. „Mike, wake up!“

 

Mike stirs once. „No.“

 

„But you gotta see this!“ Will prods, shaking him more, only causing him to curl up.

 

„Is it gonna be there in ten minutes?“ Mike whines. Will can only imagine him pouting dramatically. „I‘m gonna look at it in ten minutes.“

 

„The others are still asleep.“ Will‘s words stop Mike‘s pitiful wiggling at once, and finally he comes crawling out. His hair is a mess, but only until he slips his cap on to hide it.

 

„What time is it?“

 

„No idea. Could be 7 or 8 already.“ Will watches his breath clouding in the moist air. It all feels and smells so clean up here.

 

For someone who cares about his friends being still asleep at such a late hour, Mike keeps his voice surprisingly low. „Why haven‘t they woken up?“

 

„Happens.“ Will shrugs. He can imagine worse things than Hopper oversleeping. „Look.“

 

And finally, Mike turns his head to where Will is pointing. Warmth boils up in Will watching his friend going from kneeling half in his sleeping bag to slumping to a lying position, all wind knocked out of him. „Wow...“

 

„I know.“ Will breathes, coming up next to him. Morning light sparkles on the calm, blue surface laid out in front of them. „Isn‘t this the best thing you‘ve ever seen?“

 

„Nah. That would be you.“ Mike scoffs. „Obviously.“

 

Will shivers a little at the feeling of a warm touch on his cheek. „Just saying, I hope we can stay here. Just... find Jonathan and stay forever.“ He knows how naive that probably sounds. So far nothing has worked out the way it was supposed to.

 

Mike nods thoughtfully. „Better than San Diego. I don‘t like the heat. Don‘t let Max hear that. But I don‘t really care where we are. As long as it‘s us.“

 

Will‘s shaking breath hitches, and he doesn‘t even know why. After all this time, is it still so hard to believe he‘ll never have to be alone again? He sniffs a few times, enjoying the ice flooding his lungs. „We should wake up the others. Must have missed the first bus already, and it‘s at least a mile back to town.“

 

„Yeah.“ Mike agrees quietly. „Just a second.“ He gently presses their lips together. It's so soft, so at home and comforting, Will repeats it just a moment later, and he can‘t even make himself mind the fact that ‚Just a second‘ turns into ten more minutes like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I introduce more well known faces in the next chapter? Maybe. Stay tuned, unless you got something better to do.


	21. A Place to Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one? No, your eyes do not betray you.

It‘s not like Hopper to complain about circumstances. Most certainly not. As he himself once put it in Indiana, when it was too wet to get a fire going „I didn‘t complain when the Krauts were closing in on us from all sides because they could smell my diarrhea.“

 

So it‘s more than a surprise when he sighs, barely audible over the chattering people on the bus. „Should‘ve hitchhiked. Two days for 150 miles. Ridiculous. We‘re not even gonna make it the whole way today if we don‘t wanna hike through the woods for a few more hours.“

 

Will knows that all too well, and because he is the reason they‘re here in the first place, he feels it‘s his responsibility to say something. „At least we‘re warm now. Or do you wanna ride in the back of a truck again?“

 

„Forget it.“ Hopper shakes his head in exasperation. „I‘m just not made for sitting around with all these people, is all.“

 

The bus isn‘t even that full. Half at best, but Will at least believes to understand. His pa didn‘t like people either when he came back from the war. „You still got something to drink?“

 

„Don‘t need to.“ Hopper refuses roughly. It‘s an obvious lie. „Look, kid... Just ignore me, okay?“ Easier said than done with the man‘s leg twitching from time to time. Next to Will, Mike is snoring softly. If they could at least talk. Will can feel sleep pulling on every inch of his body too, though. The cold by the lake caused them to sleep long, and still they didn‘t quite get the rest they needed.

 

Max and El seem to be feeling it too, slumped against one another in the seat behind Will. They‘re almost in the woods now, with tall pine trees looming over them for large stretches of the winding road, that only leads to seem up, and further up into cold heights. It‘s so unlike El to just ignore this. Will would have at least expected her to be reminded of the woods of Colorado, where they came across her.

 

As for himself, he is kept awake by the prospect of finally reaching his destination today. Hopper was right, of course. The bus won‘t take them further than the border of Mariposa County, and since they don‘t know where exactly this photographer encountered Jonathan, they‘re going to have to ask their way to the right place. It‘s not exactly a small county, judging from the map.

 

Consequently, all Will can really hope for is a warm place to stay for tonight. So far they didn‘t die from just the cold alone, but something is different up here. It might be the altitude, or the humidity, or really just the way Will‘s heart is now permanently in his throat; This place is so much more exhausting than, say, Nebraska. Whatever Will tries to do, it seems to take twice the effort and energy. Walking, eating, talking, even thinking. And sleep only replenishes half the energy it should.

 

Sleep doesn‘t come, though. Will remains sitting like that for hours, crammed between Hopper, uneasily chewing on his lip, giving in to the urge to have a sip of whiskey from time to time, and Mike, fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

Will yawns. Now he regrets not being able to sleep, or not wanting to sleep on the bus. It seems darker than it actually is with all those trees around them, lining the dirt trail people call a road up here. They could have taken another bus, but that would have also meant another three hours crammed in a vehicle with strangers. Nothing Will would have minded. Hopper categorically refused, though, and maybe it was for the better; Why would they want to end up right in the center of this county when they might as well hike for a few hours, stretch their legs, and gather some information.

 

Not that they are particularly successful at that. The first place they came across was deserted. An old house in the middle of the woods, empty, with too many holes in the roof and walls to make for a valuable shelter. They didn‘t find anything of worth inside, so it was only logical to keep going. By then noon had just passed.

 

The second place was better. People lived there. Woodcutters, as it seemed. Information was scarce, with only a general direction for them to go if they want to reach Mariposa, and a chance to fill up on water. That general direction, one they could have found themselves since there‘s only one road, turns out a problem. By the late afternoon Will is beginning to think they should have asked to stay at the small woodcutter settlement for the night.

 

Especially when their surroundings begin to clear up once more. The first patch of woods slowly dissolves with every foot they wander, until they are once again surrounded by plain hills. It‘s not much more than a large clearing. The horizon, which again lies way higher up than the place they‘re coming from, again shows the beginning of another forest. Actually, this area might have been cleared by people. It certainly looks like it the way it‘s surrounded by dark pine trees on almost all sides. Will yawns again, vision turning blurry. He can‘t quite manage to blink the moisture from his eyes.

 

„Hey, is that a ranch?“ Mike chimes without warning, making the others squint after their long silence.

 

Will wearily follows the direction he‘s pointing with his eyes. It looks an awful lot like a ranch. The cattle, of which Will has seen more than enough already, wanders around lazily in the confines of a fence. They‘re not high enough up to find snow or ice, but Will seriously doubts these animals will find any sort of food on the frozen ground. The grass is there, but it‘s mostly brown, dry, and crumbling on the frozen ground.

 

„Huh, can‘t see any people.“ Hopper‘s eyes narrow. „But that looks like smoke.“ He points his finger at the small house not too far off the large stable and the barn.

 

„Yep, they got a fire going.“ Max confirms. „And it‘s getting late, so...“

 

„So we‘re gonna look if we can stay for the night.“ Hopper concludes. „Yeah. Honestly, I thought we‘d made a mistake when we left those woodcutters. Let‘s get going.“

 

The ranch isn‘t located right by the side of the road, it‘s a bit off, down another trail. The closer they come, the more clearly Will can see what they‘re approaching. The house can only be called tiny; It might even be smaller than the one Will grew up in. But it‘s a large ranch, nonetheless, and the cows seem reasonably happy. If cows can seem happy, that is.

 

The car parked next to the house doesn‘t look too good. A wooden-bodied station wagon that seemingly hasn‘t been moved in a few weeks. The wood on it doesn‘t look quite as worn as the walls of the small house, that definitely has a fire going inside.

 

Hopper walks up the porch to knock. He‘s always the one to make first contact, because, according to him, people usually don‘t like talking to know-it-all kids. Before he has even raised his fist, though, someone pulls the door open from the inside. „Ma, look, we got- Hey! Dart!“

 

 _Dart?_ What‘s that supposed to mean? Probably the name of the dog that all but jumps across the doorstep, past Hopper, and towards the little group of children. Mike is the only one to shriek pitifully, but all of them attempt to jump out of the way of this gigantic beast. Standing up, its fuzzy, gray head is on eye level with Will, and that‘s absolutely frightening. _Not a dog_ , he thinks, _a wolf!_

 

There‘s no malice, though. The dog, Dart, wags its tail, calmly sits down without making a noise, and curiously tilts its head. El mirrors that, approaching the animal without fear. „Pretty...“ she muses, and as if to say _Thank you!_ the dog leans forward to lick across her face, making her giggle.

 

„Sorry!“ the voice they previously heard sighs. The boy who steps through the narrow door is a weird sight to behold to say the least. Brown curls barely hidden under his cap, almost entirely toothless, he walks past Hopper towards his dog. „Dart isn‘t dangerous, promise!“ His lisp makes it somewhat hard to understand him.

 

„Didn‘t assume that, kid.“ Hopper says. „Irish Wolfhound?“

 

„Yeah.“ The boy runs his fingers through the dog‘s fur. „I think he‘s still growing.“

 

„Growing?“ Mike groans. „I could ride that beast!“

 

„Dart...“ Max speaks up. „What kind of name is that anyways? Doesn‘t look too agile, that one.“

 

„It‘s short for D‘Artagnan.“ the boy explains. „Y‘know, from the-“

 

„Three Musketeers.“ Hopper chuckles, much to Will‘s surprise. „You a scholar, or what?“

 

„Dustin.“ the curly-haired boy introduces himself. „Henderson. Live here with my ma.“

 

„So that‘s your ranch?“ Taking a look around, Hopper sighs. „Nice place.“

 

„Why, thank you.“ A second new voice comes from inside. The woman it belongs to looks about as kind as Will remembers his own mother, though she‘s a bit on the broad side. „Claudia Henderson. And you are...“

 

„Jim Hopper, ma‘am. We‘re just on our way through.“

 

„It‘s cold.“ Claudia Henderson states the obvious. „Coldest winter Mariposa has ever seen, they say. Don‘t you want to come inside?“ She casts her warm gaze across the rest of the little group.

 

„Only if we‘re not intruding.“

 

„Oh, nonsense. Come in, come in!“ She makes way for them to enter the comfortable warmth of her home.

 

* * *

 

About an hour later, Will feels he‘s in heaven. How could he not? Claudia Henderson apologized more than once for the _‚simple meal‘,_ but what does she know? Will can‘t remember tasting anything quite so delicious. Cabbage soup, made with _real_ beef broth. The house is more than crammed with all of them trying to fit around the kitchen table, but that‘s a price he gladly pays for being full.

 

 _Being full_. Being so full, that when Mrs Henderson asked „Another bowl, dear?“, Will just answered „No, thank you, ma‘am.“

 

Settling down takes another hour, that is spent talking mainly about this place. How Mr Henderson bought this land about fifteen years ago, dirt cheap. How he built this ranch, but then died of pneumonia just a year ago. Will can‘t help but watch Dustin while his mother tells the story by the warm glow of the steel oven. He reacts about the same way Will behaves when thinking about his mother. Head lowered, deep in thoughts, clutching into his dog‘s fur.

 

Will quite enjoys the presence of Dart. After that somewhat intimidating first impression, he soon realizes that this is about the kindest animal he has ever encountered. The dog just pliantly lies by their feet, with the kids sitting on the floor, breathes contently, and only lifts his head to lick across Dustin‘s hand every few minutes.

 

„Must be a hard life, getting this done all by yourself.“ Hopper contemplates.

 

„It‘s not too bad.“ Mrs Henderson says quietly. „The Sinclairs help us out, they live about a mile up the road. And getting rid of the milk isn‘t too hard either. Enough stores in the county, not enough ranches. We‘re the furthest east that I know of.“

 

Hopper nods thoughtfully. „It‘s all woods and mountains from here on, right?“

 

„If you go east, yes. That‘s Yosemite. I‘ve never heard of a ranch or a farm there. Why are you here anyways, if I may ask?“

 

„Kid?“ Hopper sighs in Will's direction. „Your story to tell.“

 

Will gulps once. He‘s nervous, despite basically sitting on hot coals about this. While he has been waiting for a chance to ask, he‘d much rather spare himself the disappointment and go to sleep with the hope Mrs Henderson might actually know about Jonathan.

 

He carefully speaks up „We‘re looking for my brother. He... he was seen in this county just a month ago. It‘s been more than two years...“

 

„Oh dear...“ Mrs Henderson whispers compassionately. Dustin has perked up at Will‘s words, watching with great interest as he scrambles for his bag.

 

„I got a photo. If you could just take a look at it. I know you probably don‘t know him, but if there‘s any chance, I- I-“

 

„It‘s okay. Will you just... give it to me?“

 

Will didn‘t even realizes how tightly he clutches the photo between his fingers until Mrs Henderson mentions it. Slowly, biting his lip, he hands the glossy piece of paper over. Mrs Henderson‘s eyes seem to flicker upon the first glance. „Dusty...“ she says. „Take a look at this.“

 

„I know you can‘t really see his face.“ Will rambles on. „But if it helps, his name is-“

 

„That‘s Johnny Byers.“ Dustin suddenly bursts out, after coming up next to his mother. „Right, ma? I recognize his bike.“

 

Like that, everyone is startled. Hopper spits out clouds of gray smoke, coughing. El and Max knock their heads together on accident, Mike jolts from his previously calm position to sitting upright, with his hand tightly closing around Will‘s shoulders.

 

Will, meanwhile, is overwhelmed by that feeling one gets when tripping over one‘s own feet. That feeling, right at that particular moment. The stomach lurches up, the realization that impact is imminent pops up. But impact doesn‘t come this time, and the feeling remains. It‘s like being permanently startled, and all Will can rasp out is „Jonathan. His name is Jonathan.“

 

 _Johnny Byers_... who ever thought of that? But it must be him. What are the odds of someone looking like Jonathan, bearing a similar first and the same last name?

 

„People call him Johnny around here. Maybe because he looks so young.“ Mrs Henderson explains. „I didn‘t know that wasn‘t his real name. Oh, that poor boy.“

 

„W-why?“ Will croaks. „Did anything happen?“

 

„Well, he got separated from you, that‘s what happened.“ she scoffs, as if that should be obvious. „Now it‘s all making sense. I‘ve never seen him smile.“ It looks a bit like tears are just waiting to spill over in her eyes.

 

„So you know him?“

 

„Yes, yes of course I do.“ Mrs Henderson hands the photo back to Will, who tugs it in his bag. „He comes by here to pick up Mr Keene‘s milk. For the store, you know. And he can fix almost everything.“ Will smiles weakly at those words. „I was hoping he can get my car in order again.“

 

„Do you know where he lives?“ Hopper throws in. „All we know is the county.“

 

„Right in Mariposa.“ she answers matter-of-factly. „That‘s where Mr Keene has his store.“

 

„And that‘s where he works?“

 

„Yes.“ Mrs Henderson confirms. „But-“

 

Dustin cuts her off then, as if he‘s eager to contribute to all this. „If you wanna see him, you gotta stay here. He‘s left for a week or so. Don‘t know where Mr Keene sends him, but he‘s gonna come around and try to fix ma‘s car on Saturday. Least that‘s what he promised.“

 

„Saturday...“ Will repeats meekly. „It‘s Thursday, right?“

 

„If he‘s on some sort of trip, you‘re gonna have to wait that long, kid.“ Hopper grunts in his usual manner, although unable to conceal his relieved smile. Will smiles back at him. Two days, that‘s absolutely okay with him, as long as they have a place to stay until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick explanation, I wanted to introduce Lucas in this, but it came out so long already, he's gonna have to wait until the next chapter.


	22. The Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm crying, guys. Literally. I'm so SO sorry for not posting in over two months. Like, I've kinda fallen on hard times in the meantime and really wasn't in the mood to write, but still... I feel like shit about it. Are any of you actually still reading? I don't know.

Night falls over the Henderson ranch before it‘s even 7 PM. Another thing Will doesn‘t like about the winter. Daylight always meant safety for him, and he can‘t quite shed the chill that creeps up his spine whenever he has to be in the dark. It‘s something he can ignore with the help of his friends, though, and so for the most part nervous anticipation remains. Tomorrow is gonna be a long Friday. A long last day of the year before 1949 will make its appearance at midnight. But Will is going to get through the waiting, because he now knows what the new year will bring.

 

However, there‘s an immediate problem the group faces. Simply put, the Hendersons‘ house is too small to fit them all for the night unless they want to sleep curled up on the kitchen floor. Claudia Henderson has her own small bedroom, of course, but her son appears to sleep on the narrow couch. The money the family had seems to have mostly gone into their business. Sitting up in here is one thing; while still cramped the living room is just large enough to keep them all on the edge between comfortable and stuffy.

 

Mrs Henderson can‘t stop fretting about their sleeping accommodations, but after a solid five minutes of silence and her chewing on her bottom lip, Dustin pipes up with a suggestion. „Ma, what about the hayloft? It‘s pretty warm up there.“

 

„I suppose...“ she sighs. „We could give you a few blankets to make you comfortable. I‘m terribly sorry we can‘t offer you a bed.“

 

„No, that‘s fine.“ Hopper appeases. „Anything‘s better than the frozen ground.“

 

Claudia Henderson smiles, relieved at his words. „Dusty sleeps in the barn from time to time. He‘ll show you around. Did you need anything else?“

 

„It‘s alright, we got our own blankets, sleeping bags, everything we need.“

 

* * *

 

Dustin Henderson paces the short distance from the house over to the barn with confidence, even in the almost pitch black dark. Will can make out some of the cattle still outside. „Shouldn‘t you get the cows inside?“

 

„Cowshed‘s open.“ Dustin snorts. „Always is. They‘re gonna go onside once they‘re tired.“ As if to confirm this, two of them trot inside right then, leaving about ten standing, walking in circles, moo-ing, and doing whatever cows do all day. Chewing, probably, but it‘s too dark to tell.

 

Their way leads them past the broken down station wagon right through the front gate of the largest building in this whole clearing. The barn, one that oddly reminds Will of the Hargrove‘s barn Jonathan allegedly set on fire, is large enough to house a small tractor, complete with trailer.

 

„We rarely use this thing anymore.“ Dustin explains. „But it can tow this trailer with five or six cows on it. Pretty swell, huh?“

 

„Dunno.“ Mike shrugs. „Not really my thing. I mean, I‘m from-“

 

„The city.“ Dustin laughs. „Never been to a city. Must be loud. Uh, up there.“ He points to the ladder that leads up to what must be the hayloft. „You‘re lucky we don‘t keep our hay in the cowshed.“

 

„Yeah, that‘d stink.“ Max agrees. „Don‘t worry, we‘re gonna be comfortable.“

 

„You‘ve slept in your hayloft in Nebraska?“ Will guesses. He can understand her just too well. Back in Hawkins they didn‘t have a barn, or a hayloft for that matter, but Will more often than not slept in the toolshed when temperatures allowed for it. Just to be safe from being woken up with a punch to the guts.

 

„Yep.“ Max nods. „Promise, it‘s warm even in the winter. Let‘s get up, huh?“ She doesn‘t allow Dustin to go first, jumping at the ladder as soon as she‘s finished. Hopper gently nudges El forwards so he can oversee her climbing up, which she does with wobbly legs and a mildly fearful expression. She manages okay, though, since the ladder is fixed in place and the steps aren‘t too far apart. Will is also grateful for that when he and Mike follow immediately, with Dustin right behind them. Hopper patiently waits his turn.

 

Will finds a wide open space resembling an attic, a good 10 feet above the ground, stuffed with an impressive amount of hay, both in loose heaps and bound stacks, that‘s not scratchy at all. Will has imagined it to be. No, this is comfortable immediately, and it really is warm, despite the lack of an oven or fireplace.

 

„Not too bad, huh?“ Mike grins. „We‘re not gonna freeze here.“

 

„I don‘t have to tell you you‘re not supposed to smoke up here. And don‘t get the hay wet.“ Dustin orders almost harshly.

 

„Goes without saying.“ Hopper responds, busy preparing himself a makeshift bed right where the steep roof meets the floor.

 

Will yawns at the sight, his body telling him to rest. Only, his mind disagrees. There‘s no way to stand up straight up here, except at the very center of the loft, so he resigns to crawling over to a corner behind a few haystacks on hand and knees, Mike on his heels, dragging along one of their blankets.

 

After seeing Dustin off for the night to return to his mother, the group falls into at least somewhat comfortable silence. Well, not entirely, as Hopper‘s snoring, which is less severe than usual, is barely enough to drown out Max‘s and El‘s occasional whisper or giggling. Will is glad for them, really, but right now he is busy laying out words he‘s not sure he should actually say.

 

„Hey. Mike, you awake?“ he whispers, because Will really can‘t tell, even with his nose pressed flat against Mike‘s cheek.

 

„Hm, yeah.“ the other boy returns. „Thinking.“

 

„Me too.“ Will sighs. „You first. What‘s on your mind.“

 

A few seconds of silence follow, until Mike quietly says „It‘s about this place. Looks like we‘re gonna stay here for a while.“

 

„Looks like it.“ Will nods. „You like it here?“ He knows Mike is a city kid through and through, but even more than that Will knows that Mike is going to stay with him, even in an environment that he‘s not entirely comfortable in.

 

„It‘s nice.“ Mike says with a sense of honesty that Will didn‘t expect this time. Because Mike would lie about this to stop Will from worrying. „Not as dangerous as the city, maybe. How about you?“

 

„It‘s like home- I- I mean, Hawkins.“ Will can‘t really consider Hawkins his home, can he? „Only better.“

 

„Not what I meant.“ Mike chuckles in response, his thumb stroking circles on Will‘s shoulder. „I know this is a good place for you. But what‘s on your mind?“

 

His heart throbbing with a strange combination of comfort and fear. „Us.“ he groans into the silence, careful not to alert any of the others. No one must know. „W-what are we?“ Surely, this must be a valid question. Until last week, they were friends. Best friends. And then Christmas happened.

 

„What do you mean?“

 

„I mean... a-are we... are we...“ Will carefully clears his throat. The word is too terrible to even whisper, so he forces his voice as low as he possibly can. „...are we homosexuals?“

 

Will‘s words have Mike struggling to contain his laughter in an instant. „What?“ he gasps under his breath. „What, are you mad, Byers?“

 

„It‘s just... they say that‘s how it starts. Just, y‘know, kissing and stuff. And then we-“

 

„We what? Abduct little children and murder them?“

 

„Yeah.“ Will pulls his knees up slightly. „I don‘t wanna become like that mad guy.“

 

„Brenner...“ Mike sighs. „Proper homosexual, that one. But that‘s not us. Wanna know why?“ He shows a lopsided smile that sends a fluttering sensation all through Will‘s chest.

 

„Why?“

 

„‘cause I don‘t enjoy killing. And you wouldn‘t either.“ This reminder of their hasty getaway from Indianapolis goes so against the expression Mike shows, and still it‘s so ultimately comforting. Thinking back to just his face after that shot rang out makes it easier for Will to believe Mike‘s words. No, he wouldn‘t enjoy abducting, murdering, or even worse things.

 

Will smiles too. It‘s tinged with sadness. „Didn‘t want to remind you.“

 

„Worth it.“ Mike whispers back. „Absolutely worth it.“ He leans in then, and Will is happy to just close his eyes and wait for the incredible, bubbly sensation he knows is coming.

 

„A-and what do you think we are?“ he breathes, feeling light-headed and fuzzy all over once Mike‘s lips leave his.

 

„I don‘t know.“ Mike says. „Don‘t worry about it. We‘re... us. Right?“

 

„And what if we‘re crazy?“

 

„Hm. Whatever. At least we‘re crazy together.“

 

* * *

 

Will could cry. In fact, he does, only a little. It‘s a single tear he‘s pretty sure no one notices, and that‘s good. Because how is he supposed to explain this without making Claudia Henderson pity him even more than she already does?

 

She doesn‘t need to know that her ranch is basically paradise to him. She doesn‘t need to know he can‘t shed the feeling he might have died and gone to heaven somewhere along the way. And she certainly doesn‘t need to know that she‘s just making it harder for him to fight back the tears whenever she asks him if he needs anything.

 

For breakfast Will gets to eat homemade bread that‘s so delicious, it should be illegal. There are soft boiled eggs, and butter. It‘s unbelievable; Real butter. Will can‘t remember having that in over a year. His father wouldn‘t waste good butter on him, and on the streets something that good can‘t even exist.

 

Will eats a lot overall, but he keeps himself from digging in like a madman, which is what he has grown accustomed to such a long time ago, back when he had to finish his meals as fast as possible to avoid further beatings. Again and again Mrs Henderson offers them all more and time after time Will declines politely, only to find her insisting.

 

„You kids all look too thin for my taste.“ she remarks more than once. It‘s especially true for El and Will. If Dustin is her reference for what a healthy kid should look like, though, she‘s gonna have a lot more feeding to do to get them there.

 

Right after breakfast, they all set off. Another crisp morning, perfectly clear and sunny, all blue and orange with little clouds of fog dancing above the frozen grass. Over his third slice of toast, Dustin promised to show them around the woods that surround the ranch almost entirely. Dart, the giant Irish Wolfhound, follows his every step.

 

They walk in silence for a long while, and Will takes it all in. The trees, the smells, the noises that are all so familiar. He remembers them from a place he dreaded, and still this feels like home. Will supposes, there are many things about himself he will never really understand, so he stops trying and starts enjoying.

 

A rhythmic sound pierces the silence after about half an hour of this. It‘s gentle and far away at first, a dull _Thump!_

 

As they close in, led by Dustin and his dog, Will recognizes it for what it his. Someone must be chopping wood. The cabin comes into view only seconds later, situated a short distance from the deserted road that snakes past the pine trees, and right next to it they find the source of the noise.

 

„Lucas!“ Dustin shouts without warning. El squirms, startled, only to giggle seconds later at the way Dustin lisps at the S.

 

The boy with the splitting maul looks up from the pile of firewood he has already chopped this morning. „Henderson! First you don‘t come by for a week and now you bring what, a bunch of kids?“

 

Not for the first time, Will finds himself mildly insulted by the word ‚kids‘, especially considering that this boy is no older than any of them. Dustin is quick with a reply, though. „Shut it, Sinclair. Go sit in the back of a bus, or whatever your people do all day.“

 

Will is sure they‘re just seconds away from a physical argument. He looks at Mike, who slowly, carefully begins retreating, pulling Will along. He looks at Max, whose eyes are wide under her raised eyebrows. Only El doesn‘t appear to even sense the nervous tension. The tension that dissolves as quickly as it came when Dustin and the boy called Lucas break down laughing at the same time.

 

This, in turn, coaxes an annoyed huff from Max. „Did you just call us kids?“ she asks, threatening in tone. As if she isn‘t guilty of that too.

 

„Aw, don‘t take that one serious.“ Dustin chokes, struggling to catch his breath. „He just has to piss everyone off.“

 

„And you don‘t?“ Lucas challenges. He turns to the others quickly. „Hi, I‘m Lucas.“

 

„Yeah, I think we got that.“ Mike sighs. „I‘m Mike, this is Will, Max and El.“ He points at each of them.

 

„You‘re not from town, huh? There‘s, like, thirty kids up there and I think I know all of them.“

 

„We‘re not from here.“ Will confirms. „Mike and me, we‘re from Indiana.“ Lucas gawks at him. His expression shows that he must be having a hard time wrapping his head around this. „Max is from Nebraska, and we picked up El in Colorado.“

 

They keep the story short. After last night, none of them really is in the mood to tell it all over again, so a brief rundown of the events of the last few months will have to do for Lucas. He doesn‘t exactly comment on anything they tell him, remaining silent, aside from the occasion ‚Wow‘.

 

In the end, he really is fascinated most by the fact that Will is Jonathan‘s brother. While Will is fascinated by the fact that really everyone around here seems to know Jonathan. „Yeah, he showed me how to keep Pa‘s car running.“ Lucas remarks at the end of Will‘s narration. „All the maintenance and stuff.“ When Max cranes her neck, he laughs. „Family‘s gone with the thing. But it looks okay.“

 

„Hey...“ Will says slowly. „Did that Bauman guy take photos of your family?“ He just has to ask, because the familiarity is striking.

 

„Yeah.“ Lucas nods. „Weird guy. But it looks like he had a purpose after all, huh?“

 

„Looks like it.“ Dustin pipes up. He looks about as frustrated as he could ever be about not being able to say a single word for the entire five minutes their little recap took. „Now we‘re just gonna have to pass the time till tomorrow.“

 

True. Will already figured it would be a long day, this 31st of December.

 

* * *

 

The hours pass in a haze, slow like honey, but Will still feels like he‘s not going to remember any important details about this day. Dustin talking to Lucas about the latest Superman issue, which they both seem to enjoy way more than is probably good for them. Lucas complaining about his annoying sister without an actual, _real_ care.

 

When Mike looks at Will, there is a certain sense of understanding between them. Dustin and Lucas probably never went hungry. The phrase ‚Mom, I‘m hungry‘ escaped them more than once in their lives, but _hunger?_ Mike and Will both doubt they actually know what that means.

 

They spend the day in the woods, much like Will often did in Hawkins, only he used to be alone back then. He could hide between the trees. Sometimes stay at his favorite clearing overnight when the temperatures allowed for it. Back when he was willing to do anything as long as it meant he didn‘t have to go home. Because he just wasn‘t to keen to be woken by a punch to the stomach.

 

Playing hide and seek is nice for a change. Not something you could do on the way here, and in the city they had other concerns. Max insists on staying with El, though. The girl is just too scared to be wandering around alone, so they turn into something of a double pack. But, as Lucas proclaims, finding them only counts as one point.

 

Whatever. Will can‘t really think straight for the most part. He just wants this day to be over. Sure, this is something he‘d usually enjoy. But under the circumstances, time can‘t pass by quick enough. Mike is a grounding force, though. They sneak off together more than once, and that ends in small, soft kisses and long hugs behind a tree somewhere out of reach of the others. Though, at this point Will isn‘t even sure if he‘d mind them knowing.

 

The sun sets early, as is to be expected in December, and when it‘s time to say goodbye to Lucas for the night and head back to the ranch, Will is positively exhausted. Yet, his heart is beating like a battering ram, because only now that he actually knows what time it is, he is actually starting to count down the hours. And it‘s killing him. Noon of the following day is eighteen hours away. And who knows if Jonathan is actually going to be on time?

 

They have a small dinner. Well, Mrs Henderson calls it ‚small‘ but in reality it‘s more than Will is used to eating in three or four days. And then, when the clock in the Hendersons‘ kitchen strikes eight, Dustin warbles dangerously standing up, they all know it‘s time to try and get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, the next chapter will finally see what we've all been waiting for. And no, I'm not gonna let you wait for another two months.


	23. 1949

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. I'm gonna let this speak for itself. Let me just say, this chapter is set 70 years ago to the day. Maybe my timing wasn't too bad.

Will doesn‘t know what he expected. New Year‘s fireworks? Not out here. Probably not even up in the town of Mariposa. According to Dustin it‘s too far away and obscured by the dense woods, so there‘s no way of telling of anyone is actually celebrating.

 

Will can only remember one New Year‘s celebration. That was three years ago, when the world started its first year of peace after what seemed like a lifetime. People mourned their losses or greeted the veterans in the town square, and no one, really _no one_ , doubted that everything would get better. Well, coincidentally that was also the week when pa returned. Will saw him for the first time in four years then. And just a month later he went to bed with a black eye for the first time in his life.

 

Dustin joins them in the hayloft around 10. He can‘t sleep either. While none of them actually expect to see anything, they still wind up awake until midnight. The exhaustion of the previous day just isn‘t enough to get any of the group to sleep. While the kids explored the woods, Hopper helped out on the ranch, and it seems he has a hand for animals.

 

„Well, that‘s it.“ Hopper grumbles, holding up his pocket watch. „Midnight.“

 

„I told you to do a countdown!“ Mike complains indignantly. „Happy new year, I guess.“

 

„What, you expect me to cheer?“ the tall man returns. He quickly unscrews the cap from his flask and takes a deep sip, face scrunching from the heat of his cheap liquor. „Seen too many of these to think it‘s more special than any other night. Getting a year older, big deal, huh?“

 

„Just because you‘re old.“ Max returns in a huff. El giggles at that comment and Hopper softens at the sound.

 

„I‘ll give you that, kid. I‘m old, alright.“

 

„How old are you anyways?“ Dustin inquires completely out of the blue.

 

Hopper snorts, choking up some of his booze again. „What kind of question is that?“

 

„Valid one.“ Max shrugs. „Like, we know nothing about you.“

 

„Wheeler knows a few things. Byers too.“

 

Will tries to remember the nights back in Indy when Hopper actually talked. Only when he got really drunk. Close to blackout drunk, in fact. But even then, all he talked about was the war. How cold it was, how people lost their limbs and walked around, dragging their guts on the dirty ground behind them. Nothing Will particularly likes to remember. Though he wonders what it‘s like carrying all these memories. Neither him nor Mike say anything.

 

„Fine...“ Hopper relents. „Let‘s see, I think I‘m... look I haven‘t thought about this in a while.“

 

„Jesus Christ, how does one forget his own birthday?“ Max groans.

 

„1909, okay?“ comes the gruff response. „April. Enough for you?“

 

„You‘re not even forty?“ Mike gawks at Hopper, and Will gets it. The gray streaks in his thin hair and dirty beard, the wrinkles around his eyes and forehead. Yeah, Will would have guessed he looks older than he is, but not by that much.

 

„Are we done now?“ Hopper demands. „I‘m not that interesting, kid.“

 

„You kept us alive for months.“

 

„Ah, you can handle yourselves.“

 

Will feels some pride hearing these words. Because he knows it‘s true. He has come to rely on himself and Mike more than on Hopper, and that‘s probably exactly what the man wanted in the first place. Whenever he dealt a smack here and there, that was his intention.

 

„And... what did you do before, y‘know.“ Max goes on prodding, though with a more settled tone.

 

Her question coaxes an uncomfortable glance over at Mike out of Hopper. He grits his teeth but remains silent.

 

Mike‘s brows furrow. „Hop? What is it.“

 

A pained exhale follows, along with a muttered answer. „I was a cop, okay?“

 

„Oh...“ Mike says quietly. „Oh...“

 

Oh indeed. Will wishes the topic hadn‘t come up. „Indianapolis?“ he asks carefully.

 

„Yep.“

 

„So you knew-“

 

„No. Never seen him in my life. But it brought up memories, I give you that.“

 

Will‘s hand finds Mike‘s shoulder and gives him a reassuring squeeze. If he had a say in it, Mike would just forget that night for good, but that‘s not how it works. These things burn themselves into our memories relentlessly.

 

„Look, kid.“ Hopper mutters. „Cops die. That‘s what happens. Shit was even worse when I joined the force. With the prohibition and everything. Indy wasn‘t Chicago, but we got our fair share of trouble too. Better him than you. Got it?“

 

Mike sniffs, regret glistering in his eyes. „Okay.“

 

Will notices how Hopper‘s stare has grown distant and blurred, which is usually a sign of him passing out soon. Tonight he didn‘t have nearly enough for that, though. „These Krauts had wives and children too. But it was either them or us. Really simple.“ He regains his focus after that, leans over to jerkily ruffle Mike‘s hair, before leaning back in the hay. „Damn. Past isn‘t called past for no reason. Things are going uphill. Cheer up, we‘re in for a happy little family reunion.“

 

With some relief, Will can almost feel the smile radiating from Mike. Aside from wondering if this is all just a dream that‘s about to end with a cruel awakening in the dirt ground of his pa‘s shed back in Hawkins, he also contemplates how far they can actually go in front of the others before they start asking questions. In a daring move, he cuddles against Mike and begins slowly stroking his hair. It calms them both. No one comments.

 

* * *

 

Lucas Sinclair comes over to the Henderson ranch right after they have finished breakfast. „Wouldn‘t miss this for the world.“ he proclaims with a wide grin. His words don‘t help Will‘s ever-increasing nervousness that has his pulse skyrocketing the entire morning in fits of what he can only describe as panic; He is about to see his brother. Really see his brother.

 

If that mysterious ‚Johnny Byers‘ people around here seem to know so well really _is_ Jonathan. Not just some guy who coincidentally bears his last name and strikingly resembles him. Because, well, his face _was_ obscured by his own hand for the most part in that photograph. Will hates these thoughts, but his overbearing imagination just won‘t stop raging all morning. He only vaguely follows the other kids‘ conversation.

 

„So...“ Max muses in Lucas‘ direction. „You and your family, you‘re the Hendersons‘-“

 

„Yeah, that‘s right.“ Lucas interrupts, scowling. „We‘re their cotton-pickin‘ slaves. Ain‘t that right, Mister Bossman?“

 

„Yup.“ Dustin chuckles. „Go milk the cows, boy.“

 

„We‘re their employees. Sometimes.“ Lucas clarifies. „Whenever they got work for us.“

 

Just like the day before Max watches with some disbelief. Girls never seem to get it, the casual exchange of insults between boys. And El probably doesn‘t get half the words. Just as Max is about to explain the concept of slavery to her, something that shouldn‘t be too difficult, Mrs Henderson calls for lunch.

 

„Ma‘am, this really isn‘t necessary.“ Hopper once again voices his discomfort. „This is expensive and we can‘t even do anything to pay you back right now.“

 

Will feels the same. He isn‘t one for taking from others, and Mrs Henderson gives what she has with such casual kindness, not even questioning Hopper‘s drinking habits when she fills up his flask with whiskey.

 

„You are my guests.“ she answers sharply with a narrow smirk. „As my guests you‘re going to do what I say. And I say _eat._ “

 

„Yes, ma‘am.“ Hopper utters before reaching for his fork. In the process he elbows Will in the back because with one additional guest the small kitchen is almost impossible to even move about in.

 

„Besides.“ Mrs Henderson goes on. „You‘re all pretty good with the cows. If you want to stay for a bit longer and if you _insist_ on doing something, just help with the milking in the morning.“

 

Will, Mike, Max and El all had their first experience with milking cows this morning, and it‘s actually a pretty easy process. One that requires getting up early, but Will is okay with that. He‘s used to waking up long before sunrise, because that‘s how you survive in the city, and these huge animals convey a sense of relaxation that is just so soothing to the nerves.

 

Lunch goes by mostly in nervous silence. Will‘s leg twitches up and down what little room it has under the table crammed between Mike on one side and El on the other. This is it. Any minute it‘s going to happen. Or, it‘s supposed to happen. Will all but forces his delicious meal down bite by bite. He‘s not hungry at all, but declining even his first serving would be rude, he knows that much. No matter how many cups of water her pours himself, his throat remains dry and aching.

 

 _Soon_ , he thinks. What a terrible word that is. So undefined and vague. Its meaning always depends where you‘re coming from. If you haven‘t seen your brother in two and a half years, soon could also mean ‚a month from now‘. But if you‘re told that you‘re going to see your brother today around noon, even ten minutes delay are too much.

 

But on top of that, Will is scared shitless. So many irrational thoughts plague him. Jonathan has forgotten about him. Jonathan is building himself a life here and Will has no place in it. His letter, the one Will keeps with himself at all times, begs to differ, but once his mind has settled on this, it‘s hard to break free from these thoughts.

 

After lunch, and after Mrs Henderson tells them cleaning the dishes with eight people at once won‘t work out, the group retreats back into the barn. Will‘s concern and listlessness appears to be rubbing off on the others. It‘s like everyone is just waiting for...

 

...the deep growl of an engine. Will scrambles to his feet, trips over himself, falls, gets back up and then makes a beeline for the wide open gate. It‘s coming from the south, appearing from between the trees right where Will entered this large clearing for the first time two days ago. A pickup truck. It‘s painted in vibrant red with some writing on the side that‘s too far away to read. The sun reflects from the windshield and stings Will‘s eyes.

 

„That‘s...“ Will stutters before his voice fails.

 

„Looks like it‘s time.“ Dustin has come up next to him completely unheard, and when Will‘s head snaps around, he finds the boy grinning.

 

The others come over too, all lining up to watch the truck coming closer. It‘s new, Will notes. Almost brand new probably, only a little dirty from days on the road. The letters on the side read _‚N. Keene Convenience & Drug Stores‘ _with a smaller line underneath _‚Est. 1930 Mariposa‘._

 

After the truck comes to a full stop near Mrs Henderson‘s house, the engine remains on for a few seconds. And once the driver has killed it, Will falters. Because the man who steps out of the truck is a stranger. Someone Will could swear he has never seen in his life. Just slowly, bit by bit, he begins at least somewhat recognizing his features, and when he finally realizes this presumed stranger can‘t be anyone but Jonathan, his legs threaten to give in and he has to hold himself up by the frame of the barn door.

 

Mrs Henderson can be seen coming around the house. So far, Jonathan doesn‘t bat an eye at the barn and even if he did he probably wouldn‘t see the kids in the shade against the harsh sunlight. He and Dustin‘s mother are in hearing distance, though. „Mrs Henderson.“ he greets curtly with a tip of his hat. His voice is foreign. Exchanged for something Will can‘s associate with Jonathan. His brother is so tall and broad, clad in worn but well fitting jeans, boots, a checkered shirt that is tugged in underneath his suspenders.

 

Jonathan doesn‘t smile, not even a little bit, when Mrs Henderson takes his hand. „Had a good drive?“

 

„Huh.“ he shrugs. „Didn‘t get robbed this time.“ Will notices the holstered revolver at his brother‘s hip then. Probably good to have in a robbery. „Want me to take a look at the car?“ Jonathan goes on. „It‘s been standing for what, three weeks?“

 

„About four, but-“

 

„Should‘ve told me earlier.“ he says, not without a hint of his so familiar kindness. „Not right before I leave town for a whole week. What‘s wrong with it?“ Jonathan walks over, props the hood up and takes a look with his back turned towards the barn.

 

„It doesn‘t start, but-“ Once again Mrs. Henderson finds herself cut short.

 

„Battery? Tried a bump start or the handle?“

 

„Of course I have, but-“

 

„Gonna take a look at the ignition then.“

 

„You wanna go to him or what?“ Max‘s voice suddenly whispers next to Will, and he jerks as if hit in the stomach. There is no way he is speaking a single word. Or taking a single step, for that matter. A weak croaking sound is the only response he can muster.

 

„For crying out loud, would you listen to me?“ Mrs Henderson all but shouts in exasperation. „The car can wait. There‘s something you should know.“

 

Hearing those words, Jonathan perks up and Max whispers „That‘s your cue.“ She huffs when Will still finds himself unable to move, puts on a wide grin and heads outside with no hesitation, chirping „Jonathan!“ in the cheeriest tone imaginable.

 

Jonathan almost loses his footing spinning around. This time Will can‘t hear his voice. His mouth moves but produces no words. The moment Max rushes towards Will‘s brother, flaming hair flying behind her, he can‘t help but feel jealousy seeping from his heart. _Why the hell can‘t he move?_

 

„Max?“ it finally bursts out of Jonathan when he is tackled in a fierce hug by the redhead. He almost picks her up when his arms close around her. „What are you doing here, I mean, how did you...“

 

„Your letter, idiot. What do you think?“ Max snorts and even from all the way back here Will can hear her sniffing.

 

„B-but why? Did Neil... or Billy, did they-“

 

„Didn‘t do anything. Aside from the usual. Just got a little present for you.“

 

„Present...“ Jonathan sounds as if he doesn‘t quite get the meaning of her words, as overwhelmed as he is.

 

„Yeah, for Christmas. Sorry I‘m late.“

 

Jonathan just shakes his head, uttering „Wasn‘t even in town for Christmas, I mean... present?“

 

A sigh of regret snaps Will back to reality. „Y‘know, I‘m really doing this for your own good.“ Mike whispers. And like that, Will is pushed by both shoulders. Out of the barn, into broad daylight.

 

His legs don‘t quite obey him, but there‘s no turning back now. Because Jonathan has seen him. Very slowly, even slower than Will can take his uncertain, wobbly steps forwards, he lets go of Max, eyes blown. They are both shaking. Isn‘t Will used to his too large shoes? Then why is he constantly tripping over them suddenly?

 

Jonathan is ten miles away. Ten miles that take only ten seconds to cross for some reason.

 

And there he is, close enough to actually touch. Jonathan, taller than Will has ever seen him, aged about ten years judging from his slightly wrinkled face that has dissolved into an unbelieving mess. Who ever thought of calling him Johnny?

 

„Hi...“ Will chokes out. What a dumb thing to say after more than two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That just happened.


	24. Brothers (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I'm giving you another two-parter. I just don't want >3k word chapters in this fic and writing the whole thing in one go would take too long anyways. Don't wanna leave you guys hanging any longer. Because face it, this is what we've all been waiting for.

It‘s easy to lose track of time like this. Will‘s vision is blurred almost entirely by his tears and obscured by Jonathan‘s heaving shoulder. They must have been sitting on the wide running board of Mrs Henderson‘s car for what, ten minutes. Even more, maybe. Ever since the two of them just collapsed into each other. From what Will can tell, the others have left them alone for the time being. Will wouldn‘t mind them being here, but they might just be uncomfortable seeing Jonathan cry like that. He really is a grown man after all, and that‘s something private. Only Dart, the Irish Wolfhound, remains by their side and Will spies his curiously tilted head and twitching ears a few times.

 

Few words are exchanged between them, most of which are unintelligible. Will picks up ‚missed you‘ and ‚sorry‘ more than once. Jonathan‘s breath jumps painfully whenever he tries to speak, though.

 

Whatever concerns and fears plagued Will these past days, these past months and even years, they‘re gone now. Everything bad in this world is easy to ignore, because this is final. The realization comes after mere minutes of having Jonathan back. _Final_. They‘re never going to be separated again.

 

More silent minutes pass by, until finally a few uttered words slip past Jonathan. „You made it.“

 

„Yeah.“ Will rasps painfully. „I‘m here.“

 

„You‘re here.“ Jonathan repeats, voice overflowing with emotion. „You‘re really here...“

 

„Can you believe it?“

 

„N-no...“

 

Will eventually allows himself to pull back. He finds Jonathan‘s eyes puffy and red, but with a weary smile narrowing them. „How long have you been here?“

 

Without entirely letting go of his brother, Will grins. „Just two days.“

 

„Did you and Max do this all by yourselves?“

 

This time Will honestly has to laugh. Sure, Jonathan hasn‘t seen anyone besides him and Max yet. „You really have to meet some people.“

 

* * *

 

Jonathan is probably most surprised by Hopper. But that doesn‘t stop him from almost dropping to his knees before the man. Hopper, meanwhile, returns rather harshly that, if Jonathan calls him ‚Sir‘ one more time, he‘s going to buy a top hat and challenge him to a duel. Like so many people before, Jonathan learns that Hopper makes respect dependent on actions rather than manners. Mrs Henderson is particularly happy with that, because there is no way he‘s going to call her ‚Ma‘m‘ ever again.

 

Next, Jonathan gets to meet El, but when Dustin, in his naive excitement prepares to tell her extensive backstory, Hopper steps in. Will knows why. This could be just too much for Jonathan to process. He must have heard the news about that maniac in Colorado too.

 

 _Saving the best for last_ , Will thinks to himself, smirking, as he introduces Mike. „He saved my life.“ he explains as he snakes arm around Mike‘s shoulders. „And now we‘re best friends.“ Will is so unbelievably proud to be able to say that. The more than occasional smacks or rare times when Mike‘s temper _really_ got the best of him go unmentioned. Will hardly remembers them anyways.

 

He isn‘t exactly sure how much information Jonathan can take in, though. He just seems so shaken, nodding along with every word. More than once he returns to Hopper, prepared to thank him over and over again. The response always is something in the lines of „Told you the kids can handle themselves. I just kinda tagged along for the ride.“

 

„Okay... okay...“ Jonathan steadies himself with a deep breath after the fourth or fifth time Hopper waves him off. „This is just... too much right now.“ He quickly turns to Mike after that. „Y-you saved Will‘s life?“

 

„Mutual habit.“ Mike grins. „Could‘ve died more than once myself.“

 

„Jesus Christ...“

 

Will understands this must be more than a bit shocking. And if Jonathan knew the sheer scale of the adventure that led them here, he‘d collapse on the spot. „You‘re gonna learn everything in time, kid.“ Hopper assures him.

 

„Good. Please just don‘t tell me everything at once, I mean... you‘re here.“ When Jonathan pulls Will into another embrace, he can make out Mrs Henderson, who is wiping at her eyes repeatedly. Will doesn‘t even try to keep his tears at bay.

 

„Come with me.“ Jonathan suddenly says. „Just to catch up. I can‘t stay here, I gotta go back and report to my boss, but tomorrow is Sunday.“

 

„To town, you mean?“

 

„Yeah. My boss won‘t mind if you stay the night. I kinda... live in his shed. He doesn‘t charge me a lot, so...“

 

„Yeah.“ Will smiles with a glance at Mike, who thankfully rolls his eyes and gives him a small nod that says ‚Of course you gotta go with him, idiot.‘

 

„I‘ll just have to... yeah, I‘m gonna... gonna look at that car again. Just a few minutes, okay?“ Jonathan trails off, staring at Mrs Henderson‘s station wagon with the open hood.

 

„Okay, then I‘m gonna say goodbye while you‘re at it.“

 

„Yeah, good, do that.“ Jonathan nods. And then he just remains standing there, eyes almost boring into Will.

 

„Don‘t you wanna-“

 

Jonathan flinches. „What? Oh, yeah, sure. The car.“ Although he turns around to finish whatever he started about an hour ago, he quickly looks back yet again. One step towards the car, one glance over his shoulder. And every time he does that, Will flashes him a hopefully comforting smile.

 

„A night without Byers? How are you ever gonna get through that?“ Max playfully nudges Mike‘s side. „Don‘t think I‘m gonna cuddle with you.“

 

Mike and Will both blush, but they‘re not exactly subtle about sleeping together, so that comment shouldn‘t be a surprise. Will goes on to hug each of his friends. Only Lucas and Dustin stand at the side awkwardly through all that. Will doesn‘t care. His mood is just exploding into sheer happiness, and that earns them both a hug. Which makes their reserved awkwardness worse.

 

It‘s Hopper‘s turn last. The tall man has dropped to the bench on Mrs Henderson‘s porch with a cigarette sticking out from between his teeth by now. How is Will ever going to tell him how grateful he is? Trying his best is all he can do. „You could‘ve said no.“

 

„I say no more than I say yes.“ Hopper grumbles. „What do you mean, kid?“

 

„When Mike dragged me along. You didn‘t have to take me in. But you did.“

 

„And look where I ended up.“ Hopper takes a deep drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly through his nostrils. „Truth is, I couldn‘t have said no. Not to you, not to any other kid Wheeler could‘ve brought me. Get over here.“

 

As soon as less than an arm‘s length away, Will feels himself pulled into a one-armed hug that knocks the wind out of him. „Kinda hoped we‘d end up in a warmer place, but this is it.“ Hopper grumbles lowly. „The end of the road. It‘s a nice place. Maybe we can find ourselves a real home ‘round here.“

 

„I‘m not going anywhere.“ Will says fiercely. „Doesn‘t matter if I have to sleep under a bridge, I‘m used to that.“

 

„I‘m not either.“ Hopper promises. „Mrs Henderson says she‘ll let us stay as long as we want, so I guess that‘s-“

 

„Hey! Will!“ Mike calls from the distance. „Could you help me with something over here?“

 

After a rough pat to the shoulder from Hopper, Will meets Mike in the barn. He doesn‘t care if anyone suspects that Mike, in fact, doesn‘t need help. All he really does is gently back up Will against the wooden wall until they‘re so close they now share their combined body heat, pressed flush against each other. „Max was right.“ Mike sighs. „How _am_ I gonna survive a night without you?“

 

„I‘ll be back in the morning.“ Will quietly breathes. „So you got something to look forward too.“

 

Mike nods. „Hmm. I‘m so happy for you.“ He lets his hands rest on Will‘s sides, running them up and down until goosebumps creep across every inch of his skin. Mike leans down to press their lips together for just a second. He does it a second time, just a little longer. By the third time Will begins humming into their kisses. And when Mike pulls back for the final time, because they know it‘s time for Will to join his brother, they have both shed more than a few tears.

 

* * *

 

A part of Will still thinks he must have died. A frozen corpse somewhere by a lake in northern California. But he pinches the skin on his arm _hard._ It hurts, and that kind of pain is reserved for the living. Jonathan doesn‘t notice it. He keeps his eyes on the narrow road, one hand at the steering wheel and one on Will‘s shoulder.

 

There aren‘t a lot of bumps. This road probably only sees two or three cars a day at best. It‘s a dark, paved path that snakes through the thick woods, sometimes so steep that Jonathan has to pull his hand away and shift gears, but it always returns to Will. To check if he is still there. „I usually take about an hour for this trip.“

 

„Jonathan?“

 

„Yeah?“

 

„What happened?“ Will points at the steering wheel. Jonathan‘s left hand is a mildly sickening sight with the ring finger standing up at a weird, unnatural angle.

 

„This?“ Jonathan wiggles that finger as far as it will go. „My own damn fault. I kinda... kinda punched a road sign a few times when I had to run from Nebraska. Didn‘t realize it was broken for a while and to fix this someone would have to break it again, and that‘s... y‘know, that hurts.“ These last few words come out in a small fit of laughter. „S‘good, I can make up all kinds of cool stories how that happened.“

 

The mention of Nebraska sets something off in Will. He hasn‘t thought about it a lot, all the claims Neil Hargrove made seemed just so irrational. But there must be something to it. He refuses to believe Jonathan is an arsonist. „You didn‘t do it.“ he states. „Set that barn on fire.“

 

„Jesus, no.“ Jonathan grunts. „But I did steal Hargrove‘s car. Had to.“

 

„Yeah, I figured. You had to get away, but why? If you didn‘t burn down the barn-“

 

Jonathan heaves a long sigh. „Will... I really thought Max would have figured this one out. I was framed.“

 

Will gawks for a second. What could Jonathan have done to earn him someone‘s hate to a point where that person would commit a crime like that? „Who?“

 

„You‘ve met Billy Hargrove?“

 

„Neil‘s son? What, _he_ did it?“ Up until now, Will felt nothing but sympathy for Billy, judging from their brief encounter. And why wouldn‘t he, the way Billy was treated by his own father? „I don‘t understand, I mean, Neil is such a...“

 

„No. He‘s even worse than you think. I didn‘t realize when he gave me that job. You know, whatever I did was right. And whatever Billy did was wrong. He‘d always tell Billy shit like ‚Look at Byers, that‘s how it‘s done‘. Guess he just kept me to make Billy feel like hell. And then Billy‘s... ugh, I shouldn‘t tell you this. Look, he had this girlfriend, and she started making eyes at me, I guess. So he just... just snapped.“

 

„Oh.“ That explains a lot. Billy didn‘t seem too down about this whole story, but Will just figured it was because he didn‘t mind his father‘s financial problems too much. „I didn‘t really think about him a lot.“

 

„No, I get it. But I guess you‘ve thought about Neil.“

 

„Yeah. He reminded me of...“ Will can‘t say it. He didn‘t think they‘d go there _this_ fast.

 

„...of pa.“ Jonathan concludes. „Right.“

  
„B-but we‘re different, right? We‘re not like Billy.“

 

„Because we had ma. Billy didn‘t have anyone. I think that‘s what it comes down to.“

 

„She was great, wasn‘t she?“ Will sniffs, biting back tears.

 

Jonathan‘s hand presses hard on Will‘s shoulder. He almost chokes on his own words. „She was the best.“

 

The silence that follows is filled with memories. Memories of ma that have already started blurring. Will doesn‘t know if that‘s how it usually is with memories. Does every event and person of our past fade over time, or is it because he was just ten when she died? Will the memories he is making now, two and a half years later, stay with him longer? He has to snap himself out of this. Will is going to meet his brother‘s boss, and what kind of impression would a crying kid make?

 

„Hey, you said you live in a shed?“

 

Jonathan snorts, chuckling. „Not as bad as it sounds, bud. I got a bed in there. A stove. A dresser. Mr Keene didn‘t use it at all before he hired me.“

 

„How did you end up here anyways?“ Will inquires curiously. „Did you, like, see Mariposa on a map and think you should try your luck.“

 

Jonathan takes a while before answering. „I went from job to job for a while. Fixing a car here, scrubbing floors there. On Monday I didn‘t know where I‘d be on Friday. It got really hard around March last year. I really came close to starving a few times. Couldn‘t find anything so I worked at a bar a few counties over for a meal a day and a mattress on the floor. And I even had to cook the meal myself.“ Jonathan laughs wryly. „Then one night these two drunk guys started a fight. Not just a little brawl, they were really about to kill each other. But I talked them out of it.“

 

„What, just like that? Talked them out of it? Okay.“ Will is somehow missing the relevance here.

 

„Yeah, well Mr Keene was there too. Expanding his business. And he offered me a job that could make me actual money. It really pays okay. Even better when I‘m on the road.“

 

„And what exactly do you do?“

 

„A bit of everything. Sometimes just delivery runs. Like, pick up Mrs Henderson‘s milk, get it to Mr Keene‘s store over in Coulterville. But when he sends me on a longer trip it‘s to grow the business. Mr Keene owns twenty stores between Sacramento and Fresno. He sends me to deliver the contracts and call him if the owner wants any changes done. This week was my third time.“

 

Involuntarily, Will‘s gaze falls on the revolver Jonathan is wearing in a holster by his side. And as if his brother can read minds, he snickers „I don‘t bring my gun for that. The roads are just dangerous around here. I got into two robberies so far. Not keen for a third.“

 

„But you can‘t hit a barn door from ten feet away.“

 

Jonathan‘s face turns dark. „You remember that.“

 

„Yeah. And I also remember that I could hit a coin from twice that distance.“

 

„Well, you‘re not gonna be shooting at _my_ money anytime soon.“ Jonathan and Will burst out laughing at the same time. And Will‘s stomach clenches with every breath until his bitter tears from before have been replaced with happy ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II soon, promise (that's something you can't break.)


	25. Brothers (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think this is gonna be a three-part chapter. Just because I really don't wanna rush all this too much.

Will, through his all in all light-hearted talk with Jonathan, doesn‘t really have time to build up any expectations during their drive. Even if he had, though, he never would have thought he‘d find himself in front of a kind looking, elderly woman who is holding on to the fabric of her apron close to collapsing.

 

All she did was ask Jonathan who he was bringing along and Jonathan, of course, simply answered „That‘s my brother.“

 

By now, Jonathan‘s wet smile has been replaced with slight worry. „Mrs Keene?“

 

„Ah, I‘m sorry.“ the lady gasps. „I‘m sorry, I‘m fine. Your brother?“

 

Will finally finds his manners again. He should take off his cap, shouldn‘t he? „I‘m Will, uh, William, ma‘am.“ Using his full name is weird.

 

„Your brother told us so much about you.“ Mrs Keene says, mostly successful at steadying herself after the initial shock. „He always hoped you‘d make your way to us. Please, please come in you two. You must be freezing.“

 

„Thank you, Mrs Keene, it‘s not too bad.“ Jonathan goes back to smiling when he gently nudges Will inside by his shoulders.

 

It‘s a humble home. Will has noticed that when they pulled up in the driveway and his first impression is only confirmed by the hall. Warm and welcoming, the narrow hall stretches out in front of them. It really doesn‘t look like the home of a man who is just making a fortune with a chain of convenience stores. But, as Jonathan explained, the Keenes have lived here for thirty years, ever since they opened their first store in town.

 

„Shoes off.“ Jonathan whispers to Will, going to work on his own boots. In a louder tone, he goes on „Is Mr Keene home? Or should I drop by the office real quick?“

 

„I‘m here. I‘m here.“ comes the response from a new voice, along with irregular footsteps. Jonathan‘s boss emerges from the doorway that probably leads to the living room of this homely house. He is tall, taller than Jonathan and thin as a twig with his mustache almost unnaturally large. He uses a cane to walk and doesn‘t appear to be in too good shape. His voice is strong, though. „Jonathan, welcome back.“

 

Jonathan shakes his hand first, before it‘s Will‘s turn. „I‘ve heard you.“ Mr Keene says. „So, this is William Byers, huh?“

 

„Yes, sir.“ Will answers as solemnly as the situation seems to require it.

 

Just like his wife, Mr Keene looks down at him with kind eyes. There is no way of telling if he is even remotely as shocked as his wife. „I understand you have quite the way behind you. Please, come in you two. Dear, would you make a can of coffee?“

 

Mrs Keene, with a gentle touch to her husband‘s hand, nods. „Of course, I‘ll be right back.“

 

While she scurries off to the kitchen, Will and Jonathan follow the tall man into what Will correctly guessed to be the living room. Two couches and an armchair around a low coffee table by a fireplace, as well as a tall radio, is all the furniture in the small room. The walls, though, are plastered with photographs. Old ones as well as new ones.

 

One especially catches Will‘s eye; A color photograph showing a group of people standing around or sitting on a truck in front of what appears to be Mr Keene‘s store here in Mariposa. That‘s what the sign above them says. Mr Keene is one of the people, as well as Jonathan, and a bunch of people Will can‘t possibly know.

 

Will is startled a bit by Jonathan‘s voice as he sits down on one of the couches. „I thought I‘d find you at the store. Or the office.“

 

Mr Keene shakes his head. „Nothing to do for me there. Marcus will manage these things for a while. It‘s about time anyways.“

 

„No delivery runs?“

 

Jonathan‘s boss bites his lip. „No, not Marcus. Not for a while. Broke his leg on Tuesday.“

 

„Christ...“ Jonathan utters. „How did that happen?“

 

„He-“ Mr Keene trails off, eyes finding Will‘s. „Don‘t you want to sit down, son?“

 

„Oh...“ Will breathes. „Sure, thank you, sir.“

 

The conversation only goes on once Will is seated next to his brother. „Nothing too terrible.“ Mr Keene muses. „Fell off a ladder, that‘s all. The doctor says he‘ll be back on his feet in five weeks time. But I believe there‘s something you wanted to show me?“

 

Jonathan grins hearing that, looking proud like a peacock. He zips open his bag that he has set down on the floor next to the couch and shows a large black leather folder. It must contain the contract Jonathan spoke about earlier. „That‘s number twenty-one.“

 

„William...“ Mr Keene turns to Will. „Your brother never disappoints.“

 

Before he knows it, Will has spent the rest of the afternoon listening to Mr Keene‘s and Jonathan‘s rather trivial talk about this and that, nothing and everything. The weather, for example. Not for the first time, Will picks up how this is an unusually cold winter for northern California. The Hendersons‘ ranch is situated way lower than Mariposa, so it‘s no surprise that Will has already seen his fair share of snow up here. But according to the Keenes, it shouldn‘t be _that_ much.

 

Jonathan nods and listens for the most part. It‘s his first winter up here, so he doesn‘t know any better than Will does. They‘re both invited for dinner, although Jonathan tries to decline at first. „We could just head over to Benny‘s and get something there.“

 

„I want to hear none of that.“ Mrs Keene scolds. „You two are eating with us, period. Jonathan, I‘ve started a fire in the stove for you. Will you have enough space out there?“

 

„It‘ll be fine, that you. We‘ll use the night to... to catch up.“

 

* * *

 

Dinner is delicious. As delicious and _real_ as every meal Will has gotten to enjoy up here. It seems to him as if everyone he has met since they arrived at the Hendersons‘ ranch is good-natured through and through. Mrs Keene drops spoons full of mashed potatoes on his plate again and again, and while Will feels like a dirty stain in the cleanliness and quaint comfort of this dining room, she only seems to care for how thin he looks.

 

It‘s nice not being asked to many questions over dinner. Explaining the adventure Will went through to Mr and Mrs Keene and then repeat it in more detail to Jonathan would have been... well, tedious. Whenever he looks up from his plate, all he finds is pleasant, warm silence. That, and Jonathan‘s eyes. They never seem to leave him, still treating him as if he could disappear into thin air any second.

 

As a result of Mrs Keene‘s adorable doting, Will is full to the brim when he and Jonathan make their way across the back lawn right after dinner. Just as Mrs Keene promised, the shed is already warmed up comfortably. The dark metal stove in the corner produces metallic cracking sounds every once in a while.

 

So this is Jonathan‘s home. It‘s just like he described it. Just a wooden shed behind a humble house, equipped with a narrow bed, a dresser, and not much else. But it‘s better than most places Will had to spend the night at for a very, very long time, and the same probably goes for Jonathan.

 

„This is it.“ Jonathan sighs, throwing his now considerably lighter bag in the corner. „Home sweet home. For the last few months anyways. Not a lot of room, huh?“

 

That‘s something of an understatement. With both of them in here, they can barely move about without constantly getting in each other‘s way.

 

The two of them just stand there for a while. It‘s an awkward situation that comes out of nowhere. Will‘s foot taps on the wooden floor. Jonathan chews on his own bottom lip. „Y-you wanna... do something?“

 

„Like, talk?“ Will asks. „Please.“

 

The bed is, surprisingly, less comfortable than Claudia Henderson‘s hay. Will and Jonathan sit down, legs dangling down, backs against the rough wall. And again, silence follows. Until Jonathan snakes an arm around Will. „Or we don‘t talk. Fine with me.“

 

Will chuckles to himself. „Don‘t know where to start.“ he shrugs. „It‘s been so long.“

 

„Take your time.“

 

„Give me a cue.“ Will demands, grinning. „If you wanna know anything.“

 

„How about the beginning?“ Jonathan asks. „Like, when have you left ho- I mean, Hawkins?“

 

With a faint smile, Will takes notice of how Jonathan doesn‘t want to refer to Hawkins as ‚home‘. „In May.“

 

Jonathan‘s face falls at those two simple words. „May?“ he chokes up. „You‘ve been out there _that_ long? Jesus, that was when I had to run from Nebraska! What did you do?“

 

„Went to Indianapolis first. And I found out where you went.“

 

„The letter I sent my boss there.“ Jonathan nods. „But Nebraska didn‘t work out for me.“

 

„I didn‘t know that.“ Will goes on. „I mean, I had nothing. And I had to figure out how to survive first.“

 

Jonathan‘s grip tightens, maybe without him even noticing. „So you were all alone...“

 

„Told you, Mike saved my life. That guy wanted to kill me and Mike knocked him out cold.“ Will laughs a bit, despite the fact that Mike probably killed the boy. „He‘d already been with Hopper for a year at the time. They helped me.“ He gulps uncomfortably then, because at the pace he is telling his story, it‘ll soon be time to confess to the darker parts. Not Mike‘s temper back then. That doesn‘t matter. Whatever bruise Will sustained from his friend‘s wrath, he is over it.

 

„You okay?“ Jonathan whispers. „What happened?“

 

„We-“ Will clears his throat. „We had to go in November. We did something real stupid. A-“ He stops himself there. It‘s still hard to say it. Hard to remember the turmoil, the single shot in the dark. And the blood. „A policeman died. So we just ran.“

 

„And...“ Jonathan carefully approaches the topic. „Who-“

 

„Doesn‘t matter who did it.“ Will cuts him short. „Hopper said we should go west and try to find you. So that‘s what we did.“

 

Jonathan breathes out once. It‘s clear he won‘t ask again. „But I was long gone by then. I mean, jeez. In November I was already living here. And- and I really wanted to come back and get you. I thought I‘d wait until spring. Mr Keene told me my job would be waiting for me, no matter how long it takes.“

 

„That‘s off the table now, huh?“ Will smirks. „Can you imagine? You going to Hawkins only to find out I‘m already gone?“

 

„No.“ Jonathan‘s voice cracks slightly. „Don‘t want to imagine.“

 

„Me neither. So we found the farm. And Neil Hargrove told us whatever he believes. Max recognized me and her ma sent her after us with your letter.“

 

„So you went to find Mr Newby?“ Jonathan concludes, but Will cuts in, not without feeling a pang. That‘s another thing he‘ll have to tell Jonathan eventually. Bob Newby.

 

„Not so fast. There‘s something else.“ This is all going faster than Will thought. Did he actually hope to be able to skip this part, postpone it until later when the dust from their sudden reunion has settled? Well, maybe it‘s better like this. Oh god, Jonathan is not going to like this. „You remember El?“

 

„That other girl? Yeah, I mean it‘s hard to forget her. Something‘s up with her, right? I thought she was a boy at first.“

 

„You‘re not the only one.“ Will nods. „We picked her up in Colorado. Hey, Jonathan...“

 

„Yeah?“

 

„You‘ve been- you‘ve been reading the papers lately?“ Will asks, heart picking up some speed.

 

Jonathan looks confused. More than that, he might even be suspecting something subconsciously. There is some dread to his expression already. „Sometimes.“

 

„You h-haven missed that one story about that guy? That, um, serial killer. Brenner.“

 

That‘s it. The hammer has fallen, and Jonathan looks like he is just a second away from falling apart entirely. „You were there? Then she‘s-“

 

„His eleventh victim.“ Will quietly confirms. „Would have been. But we made it out. It was just... y‘know we were stranded in the woods, and then there was this village.“

 

„Y-yeah. Sure.“ Jonathan breathes out, trying to keep himself together. „Sure, you couldn‘t have known what was going on at that place.“ But then again, he presses his brother so hard into his side, it almost makes the impression of punishment. As though Jonathan wants nothing more than to shout ‚Why couldn‘t you just keep yourself out of danger?‘

 

And Will presses back just as hard. Grinning, he puts some defiance into the embrace. „We got out alive.“ he sighs, skipping the part where he got struck across the face with a revolver and was subsequently blind on one eye for days.

 

„And you saved that girl.“ Despite everything, Jonathan sounds proud. „Looks like I‘m gonna have to-“

 

„You leave Hopper alone.“ Will laughs. „He hates people thanking him, and I don‘t want him to hate you. Just get him a pack of cigarettes or something.“

 

„Okay. So that anonymous tip to the police?“

 

„Ours.“ Will confirms. „Hopper‘s. Don‘t worry, we kept our distance from cops. Just to be sure.“

 

Jonathan releases some of the pressure in his grip. „It‘s over now. You‘re safe. So, you went from California from there. Got my letter to you from Mr. Newby and came up here. No more serial killers, no more deaths or anything like that?“

 

Will groans. There is nothing he‘d love more than to say ‚Right, that‘s how it went.‘. „Not exactly. We- we didn‘t find Bob Newby. He‘s dead. A bear got him on a hunting trip and then his brother just destroyed all private letters.“

 

This time, Jonathan really comes withing inches of losing it. His free hand, the one that isn‘t digging into Will‘s shoulder, shoots up to frantically run through his hair. „Fucking hell!“ he curses under his breath. „How in the world did you find me then?“

 

„We lived with Max‘s pa for a while. And then we just met that guy by chance. You know who Murray Bauman is?“

 

„What, that crazy photographer?“ Jonathan gasps. „That‘s impossible, I mean... impossible!“

 

Will reaches for his pocket. The photo is crumpled by now from days in there, but it‘s still recognizable as what it is. Jonathan‘s gaze falls on his own portrait. He can‘t believe it any more than Will can. So there are no further words spoken for a while between them.

 

Not until Jonathan sniffs into the silence. „Hey, I wanna show you something.“ He inches forward, not even having to get up from his sitting position to reach for the bottom drawer of his dresser. Inside is a book, thick, heavy, bound in torn leather.

 

The lump in Will‘s throat is there instantly. Without warning it springs to life, clogging his voice, making it eerie and somehow _not his_. „You took it.“

 

Jonathan is back by his side quickly, along with the book that he unfolds across both their laps. „Sorry. Didn‘t wanna leave it with- with _him_.“

 

„I really thought he burned it or something.“ Will mumbles. His hand slides across the thin, transparent sheet of paper. The faces on the photos underneath it bring tears to his eyes. Just like the single framed photo of him, Jonathan and their ma he owns sometimes does.

 

Everything Will sees in that album are depictions of happy times. When there was no one but their small family. They didn‘t need pa. They didn‘t want him. They‘re smiling in most of the photos.

 

And before they even get a chance to skip through the pages, everything that happened, everything that went wrong, crashes down with the force of a bomb straight from the war. Will can‘t hold it together and really, he doesn‘t want to. Thinking about the things he has gone through just to be able to hug his brother, he figures he has earned this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really trying not to take too long with the chapters btw. I really want to get this fic done and go back to 'It's the doubt', which I really don't think I'll be able to finish before its one year anniversary. HOLY CRAP.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe leave a comment? I eat these with cheese dip to survive.


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